I’ve been having trouble writing things the past couple of weeks. A lot of this might have to do with the fact that I’ve been feeling kind of shitty as a result of a massive cold, and the inevitable effects of one of my periodic days-long bouts of insomnia. I don’t know for sure.
I don’t usually write something to make a specific point; I write to work out what I think about whatever it is I’m writing about. This requires a certain amount of restraint, otherwise you’ll go from examining a grain of sand to trying to explain the universe, and that is more writing than I really want to do of an evening. Lately though, during the pre-writing contemplation phase, my thoughts have been spiraling out of the narrow (-ish) pond I’d like to keep them in, which leads me to think, basically, that there’s no way to do justice to the topic I’m thinking about with spending the rest of my life writing about it, and then I just give up.
I feel like I am sniffing around the edges of some larger question that is at the heart of all of the topics I am trying to explore but, somehow, I just can’t get a grip on exactly what that question is — and I’m not sure that I should be trying. If The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy has taught us anything, it’s that coming up with the right question is a good deal harder than finding the answer. In a world full of people much smarter than myself who are working on the problem (whatever it might be), I have to wonder why I bother.
Well, anyway. I suppose I’ll feel better soon, and then I can get back to… whatever the hell it is I do around here. A good night’s sleep would help. I shall try to find one.
Filed under: Short Tagged: randomness, self glorification Image may be NSFW.
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