Writer's Mood

I'm a writer. Well, I'm trying to be a writer. My ability and output are nowhere near the levels they need to be in order for me to pay the bills with writing, but I write nonetheless. So I guess I'm an amateur writer.

Over the years, I've learned both through my own experience as well as being taught that there is no such thing as writer's block. A writer can write regardless. It might be crap, but a writer writes anyway. However, over the years, I've also learned that there is such thing as a writer's mood. And a writer's mood is an odd thing. Pervasive and evasive at the same time, it requires some sort of a balance to be fully implemented. Not a delicate balance, mind you, but a balance.

As most of you can tell by the hack writing of the previous two paragraphs, I am currently NOT in a writer's mood. And here's a list why:

1. I'm pissed off. A writer's mood doesn't require one to be happy. In fact, a writer can be a little pissed off and be writing. Only a writer just can't be as pissed off as I am. Those of you that know me best know exactly why I'm pissed off, so I'll save everyone else the trouble of reading something so trivially stupid.

2. I'm stressed out. Now, I'm not talking about the good "eustress," I'm talking about the oh-so-in-your-face fuck-all stress known as "distress." I'm distressed. Writers actually need to be distressed a bit in order to be effective, but in my case... thanks to the same reason that I'm pissed off... I'm extremely distressed.

3. I'm bored. What? Wait, I'm a writer. I should just be able to write while I'm bored, thereby alleviating the boredom. Yeah, well, that'd be nice, but it doesn't fucking work that way.

4. I'm single. I need a muse, ladies. Any takers? The nearest woman who I know absolutely 100% fits the muse bill is in North Carolina, and that's just a bit far away from California (I'm actually in Nevada at the moment, but that's beside the point).

5. One of my cats died. This is, surprisingly, unrelated to my being pissed and distressed. Arthur, my beautiful, all-grey (with a small patch of white on his chest) domestic short-hair went somewhere to die. He had been sick for a while, and by the time I found out which cat was leaving the messes, Arthur had run away somewhere to die alone, in peace. I hate that cats do that. Okay, now it's a reason that I'm distressed.

Anyway, there is much more that belongs on this list, but I'm going to sleep on it. In the meantime, I hope you don't enjoy this blog entry, because I know it sucks.

I'd like to say "thank you" to everyone I know that kicks ass and provides good times and conversations. I'd also like to say "fuck you" to everyone I know that sucks ass and is too stupid to provide a good time or conversation. And yes, both of each type of person can be found on my friend's list. Why? Well, because I like to have a reference photo when I'm making fun of those people.

I'm sure my friend's list will disappear by the end of the week now... and I really don't care. Maybe the irony will put me in a writer's mood.