*blink*

while driving into work this morning, i was thinking about how much i’d like to write. i really do think that i should be writing. what, i don’t know. my problem is that as soon as i decide i want to write something, i can’t think of anything interesting. i’m consumed with the dread that i’m only stealing from the genius to which i’ve been exposed by others. when i write poetry, there’s a voice in the back of my head which whispers “this isn’t yours. you stole it from that blink 182 song.”
alternately, when i write fiction, i have yet to get past the introduction of my characters and plot. i worry that my development will be formulaic and dull. i am hindered by my own expectations of greatness. i want to be good so badly that i’m scared to be bad even for a moment. i can’t let go of the worry that i am unoriginal. i’d rather be mute than re-write what’s already been written.
when it comes to this forum for my text, i am both grateful and intimidated by it. i love that having it encourages me to create something on a daily basis. whether it’s good or not, inspiring or not, original or not. just the fact that it is here and i know, thanks to sitemeter, that at least twenty people a day read it nudges me towards the keyboard. i’ve come to look at my life and thoughts differently because of it. i pay more attention to the passing details that colour my existance. when i get a random thought, i hang onto it for at least a heartbeat longer. “how can i write about this?” i think. i hope it’s helped me to see the mundane in a slightly more unique way and will, one day, enable me to write without fear.