I recently saw a video where this life or acting coach helped people free themselves from trying to “be cool” by acting so foolish that they couldn’t fake being cool anymore. It immediately freed them from their ego and allowed them to get back to being themeselves etc. & I need that. So. That said, the following chaos is 100% intentional. Welcome back.

I have been stuck. For a while. Well, not “me” physically. I’m not stuck. To be clear: I am not stuck physically,

(as an aside: quick sand isn’t as much of a problem as scooby doo led me to believe it would be growing up—I also don’t get offered free drugs to say no to so…)

but, I am in my writing. To reitterate: I am not stuck but my writing is. My writting is dramatically stuck in… Limbo? In editing mode. In drafts. In random word documents and journal entries and notes app notes. Point is…my writing has been stuck. All of it. Everything. For a while.

And even writing this is starting to feel like nails on the chalkboard because the other versions I created were so much more neat and tidy—and incomplete—but thats not the point—and even if it was, they, those neat and tidy, and unfinished versions, wouldn’t help me break the habit I am trying to break so here we are. Here we are, back at it again… *sighs* Hi. What’s up. It’s been a minute. Hi.

Anyway…A couple years back I fell into the terrible habit of writing to “sound smart”—which mostly just makes me feel dumb because no matter how pretty it is or how nicely it rolls off my tongue or tickles my brain, it isn’t me.

I mean it is… but it isn’t.

It is… but it takes forever and it’s too polished. It’s too intentioned and it’s not as fun and at this point it’s honestly kind of annoying. So here we are.

There was a time in my life where I could sit down and write pages of content. Poems and plays and novels in november and I loved it. It was freeing and it was fun. It didn’t feel as hard, it didn’t feel like work…It was just, fun. But I already said that so…

Let me try again…

I used to be a good writer. Self proclaimed, most days, but I guess other people liked it too? Which isn’t the point… the point is—I used to be a good writer, not because people liked it, but because I had something to say. Something to get out. I had stories to tell.

And it didn’t always make sense, it was rarely written for the masses but it meant something to me and it saved me from myself more than once. Then somewhere along the way I got stuck. I got tripped up by wanting to sound smart or not say anything controvercial or… be “good enough.” But doing all that killed my voice and ruined my writing.

So here we are! Rambling… with the intention to publish said ramblings and get out of my own way and get out of this funk. Hopefully.

Fact of the matter is this—Sounding smart or at least wanting to sound smart hasn’t gotten me anywhere. It has only held me back in my writing.

So here I am, trying something new, rolling with the stream of concious, not trying to sound smart, or edit too much and at the end I will hit send and then I’ll do this again and again and again. Or try to. Until I fix myself.

Until I can write as me. Until I can stop trying to just “sound smart” and just be smart. Or at the very least be me. Until I can tell my ego to “suck it,” respectfully, of course.

Wish me luck!