I don't have a picture for today's post, so here's a random tree behind my house.
I am trying to learn how to crochet. It's supposed to be relaxing and, well, my Zoloft just isn't working as well as it used to and I can't really get the dosage upped for another month. I feel like I'm even more on edge than before. The other day I almost tripped trying to avoid a square of sidewalk that was too big for me to take exactly two steps inside of it, no more, no less.
Which, of course, brings me to the crocheting--a word that hilariously resembles "crotch-eting" in the present participle. Whoever said that this crap was supposed to be relaxing obviously found a bowl of nails floating in anti-freeze a nutritious and delicious breakfast. Two minutes in and I already feel like stabbing something with my crochet hook. I find writing much, much more relaxing, and half the time all I can do is stare at the page and think, "What in the name of Zeus and Mother Mary is supposed to happen next?"
Surprisingly, the one place that my OCD seems to disappear is when I'm writing my first drafts. Grammar mistakes, spelling errors...all of those things disappear completely as I try to focus entirely on letting the story fall out onto the paper. Of course, the editing process feels the ultimate wrath of my nit-picking tendencies, but while I'm writing the first draft I'm totally free.
I also have to admit that, for reasons unknown to me seeing as it's December, everyone around me seems to be constantly sucking on oranges. Gah. The sound is absolutely maddening. I don't feel like smashing things like before, but I cringe every time.
My word of advice for those whose lives have been completely controlled by Obsessive Compulsive Disorder is to note what it is you're doing when you feel yourself completely relaxed and free of that gnawing sensation at the back of your neck. You know the one I'm talking about. For me, there's nothing better than my favorite playlist, a pen, and my spiral-bound notebook to take me away from the fact that I can't stop thinking about the feeling of paper between my teeth, and I don't know why.
You know, I started this blog to journal the process of going from random some schlub who scribbles out weird scenes in her mind to an actual writer who makes something of those crazy-ass scenes. Day by day and post by post it becomes more of an insight into what it's like to be a writer with a personality disorder that unfortunately wasn't diagnosed until I had chased off all potential friends for thirteen years by sanitizing my hands after every handshake.
"It's not you, it's me!" I would tell everyone in hopes that they wouldn't be offended. "If I don't do it, I feel like I'm suffocating."
But you know how hard it is to get people to understand something they don't have. Even those wonderful, beautiful people who try their hardest to be of assistance to you don't really get how it feels, though you're eternally grateful to them for not getting pissed at all of your little ticks.
I would like to end today's post by doing a follow-up on the SOPA bill that I posted about earlier. So far it's been postponed, but the fight is far from over. The best place to learn about the bill is this subreddit on Reddit, a site that I fear will cease to exist if SOPA passes. It's where I've been going to stay caught up.
**I've decided to go with a new layout instead of the older one. Though the last one I had was beautiful, I had no idea how to make Next Blog work with it, and I like the Next Blog feature as a way to support other bloggers.
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