I know it’s time to write when I hear the narration in my head. You know, the one that never stops, a steady stream of words and ideas like you are in a black-and-white movie and there’s a smoky, dreamy voice-over that tells the viewer all your innermost thoughts? The ones you usually file away under “insane” and “awkward” and “god-i-hope-no-one-knows-i-ever-thought-that!”
I try, as much as possible, to not filter those thoughts and spill them out on paper (or in this case, on-line) because it’s easy to hide behind smiles and handshakes and “oh, I’m fine” when the opposite is true. Usually, it’s a mix of “Having a Nervous Breakdown” and “Having a Brilliant Idea” sort of thing. But that’s often difficult to explain in everyday conversation or when you are in line at the coffee shop.
I browse other blogs and am envious at their humor, notice all the “likes” and comments, and friendly, flirty banter. I want to be funny. I want people to say, “Oh, that Lennon Sundance. She’s a card. A riot. I should really tell the world to check out her site and follow her like a religious leader and push to get her book published…”
Instead, I struggle with maintaining focus and reliability and consistency in my posts. Like any good Bipolar, I have only a few speeds. Mainly – “I can’t bear to brush my teeth” or “I’m a freaking a genius, let’s tear down some walls and decoupage the floor with flower cut-outs from Better Homes and Gardens.”
If you haven’t guessed it, today I have sharp scissors in hand.
