Writing to Access

I heard the most interesting theory the other day. Artie Isaac, who I'll get to later, said "Our natural state is to be creative" and that it's the hustle and bustle, the distractions and diversions, that interfere. And then he said something about flow.

Words like that will stick in your brain, dangling on a synapse like a monkey from a tree. Swinging there, taunting you, possible throwing feces at you just because it can. Because you don't know how to calm it down. It just keeps getting more excited.

It was the thought about diversions and distractions that got me. Not a new idea, really, the thinking about distractions and how to eradicate them from my life; but the whole presentation was very inspiring and actually offered up some concrete solutions. Although I didn't like most of them.

But then I don't much care for concrete. It's not a flattering material on a building or surface areas. It cracks and is easily infiltrated by weeds. And it hurts when you land on it. I'm trying to work in a metaphor here but it's just not happening today.

Seems to me that just about everything is a distraction right now. Almost everything. Depends, I suppose, on exactly what I consider the goals or thing on which I'd like to spend my time. That dictates what is defined as a distraction.

When I boil it all down, the one constant in my life is writing. Creating. Mostly through writing. There are many things in this world I like doing—many things with I enjoy and many which give me pleasure, two words that I really didn't see a difference between until the other day. But if you break it down, one fuels the mind and the other fuels the body.

But in almost every day, how often to we achieve fulfillment for both? I don't eat well. Not like I should. Haven't worked out in ages. And I recall that when I did work out, when I got up with the sun (or before) to hit the gym, I felt good. And that in turn, helped me focus on the mind. Funny how that works. And sadly it doesn't work in reverse. I can write all I want and try to create, but if I'm not running with all engines firing, then I'm just crashing. I think that was another attempt at a metaphor.

Wrote some of this last night, when I should have been sleeping. It was well past my bedtime, and probably why I was rushing into work a wee bit tardy. Because I was up. Typing. Never was one for bedtimes. Or sleep. Always felt it a waste of time. I mean, we only get so many trips around the sun on this ball of dirt; I'm not wasting mine keeping my eyes closed. Yet napping is a pleasure that I do enjoy.

I'm paradoxical like that.

Which is probably why I'm having trouble figuring out my distractions. Admittedly, this blog is one of them. But only from work. And sleep. But then work is just a distraction from writing. Of course I can't just not go to work. That would be considered poor form. I guess my trouble is, distractions remove us from the things that bring us enjoyment and pleasure. But what if things I enjoy distract me from other things I enjoy. Where do I draw the line?

Theatre. I enjoy it. It's fun. A challenge. I'm working creatively with my fellow actors and tech crews. And as fun as it is, it distracts from my writing and family. But then, to be fair, writing distracts from my family and friends. How many times have I passed on spending time with real live human beings so that I could write dialogue for the imaginary ones in my head?

Friends distract from family. Family distracts from friends. Everything. Distracts. Everything. So it makes me wonder if there really is an answer, aside from prioritizing (easier typed than done).

Actually, there is a sort of simple answer. All of the things I've listed are things that bring me massive amounts of enjoyment. Family, friends, writing, theatre, blogging. Even work, because in the end it provides me food, clothing, and shelter and those things bring me pleasure in that they keep me healthy and alive.

Artie says cut out the distractions. So what are those? Been thinking about it. And it boils down to a few things. Drama, a sense of importance, and malcontents.

Yep. That's all. The meaning of life. Take away those three things and everything will go much more smoothly. And when I say drama, I mean the gossip, the soap-operatic elements that course through our everyday lives. I like to think I've been cutting back and working that out of the system. Seen too much and I don't have time for it. None of us should. I wonder how much time we would all save, how much more we could accomplish, if we dropped the drama-kicks and just moved on. Plus, I think I'll just feel like a better human being if I don't let myself get sucked into things like that. Petty, petty stuff that in the end won't be remembered by anybody. So why worry about it now?

An over-inflated sense of self-importance. Yep—I've got that. I do. I have a t-shirt. It's not subtle about where I position myself in this world (hint: in a past life, I was one of those people branding Galileo a heretic for his heliocentric beliefs). And yet, I know this about myself, so I like to think I've reigned this in a skosh. One of my biggest weaknesses is perfectionism and my egotistical proclivity to assume that anything you can do, I can do better. Annie Oakley and me would've given each other quite a run for our respective fortunes. I'm one of those people who thinks he can do it all and that has come back to bite me. So I'm trying to learn the ancient art of delegating. In everything. There's no sense to stress myself out. Trying to be all things to all people is one of my biggest distractions.

And finally. Malcontents. I have no patience for them any more. This kind of hits back to the wanting a life free of drama. Life is too amazingly wonderful to be brought down by those who seek only to destroy what I hold dear. Not with guns or bombs or threats, but with attitude. Now, everyone is entitled to a bad day. We've all had them. Those spit in your face kick you in the crotch bad days where you'll need a shoulder to cry on after and a friend to listen as you unload. Not against that. Just against general sourness. An overall outlook that defines pessimism. Call them what you will. Crotchety people. Curmudgeons. I'm done. My outlook is, if you're having a bad time then do something to change it.

That's what I'm trying to do. Not that I'm having a bad time... overall, can't complain and I understand that anytime I think my life to be less than great, there are people out there who would trade with me in a second. And that's not arrogance. Sounds like that whole world revolving around me attitude, but it's just an observation that I was born into a good family, with enough money to keep me fed, clothed, protected, educated, and grounded. I live in America. I have freedom.

And there are things I need to do in this life if I'm going to be look back in the last days and be able to say I enjoyed it. That starts by cutting out distraction. Focusing on my goals and the everyday. Writing. And writing some more. Because as each week goes by and we rapidly approach 2008 and my 29th birthday (and, in effect, the dawn of my thirtieth year on the planet), I feel like I'm on the brink of figuring it out. And here I thought I wasn't one of those "by the time I'm 30" people. Maybe I'm not. Maybe I'm just one of those "before it's too late" people.

I'm going to post this now. I've been writing it for days and it shows in the seams. But there's no time to make it perfect. And that's okay. Besides, if I keep on lamenting about the state of the universe, when will I have time to post about the beginning of "Rabbit Hole"?

And the Playwrights Festival. And how much fun this winter is truly going to be.

It's beginning...