Archive for writing

It’s Not Very Funny

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , on August 12, 2015 by jezzywolfe

The suicide of Robin Williams a year ago shocked and devastated a world that revered him for his outlandish movie roles, his hyperactive stand up comedy routines, and his endearing compassion for others. No one anticipated such an announcement. We were all shaken.

People assume the funny ones are such happy folk. But we’ve lost a lot of comedians to depression and addiction. We are horrified every time such news is made, and confused. But we shouldn’t be. Truth is, creative professions have statistically higher numbers for depressive and bi-polar disorders than most others.

Writers are particularly prone to severe depression and addiction. According to Health.com, polls indicate that Writing ranks in the top 10 professions with the highest rate of depression and suicide. Researchers indicate that writers are 10 to 20 times more likely to suffer from depression and depression related illnesses. Sylvia Plath, Ernest Hemingway, Anna Sexton, Hunter S. Thompson, Virginia Woolf, Edgar Allen Poe (even though the cause of death in his case was never confirmed)… Wikipedia alone lists over 300 authors that died by suicide.

Writers are typically introverts who spend a lot of time locked in their heads. In the end, they second guess the product of all that solitude, glazing all that hard work with self-loathing and degradation. And not for the love of money, or fame. There is little of that to be found. E-books and online publishing have turned the craft into little more than an arts and crafts class in grade school. Publishers are dropping authors, and the money that used to be out there for a writer is dwindling.

Those still at it are doing it for the sake of art. Perhaps for a bit of immortality. For the need to expel their own inner demons on someone else’s unfortunate storyline.

To create something that wasn’t.

My own personal theory… achieved by no amount of research or polling… is that many artists suffer depression because they attempt to create worlds that don’t exist, in hopes to lose themselves there. And perhaps they never achieve that euphoria of escape because they were present for the creation. There is no magic for them. It’s all syntax and structure and endless editing.

As a reader, you can lose yourself in images and emotions.

As a writer, you are lost in production. Stuck in the green room. Stranded between the realms you create, and the reality that they will never exist. It’s like when you first realize there is no such thing as Santa. Disenchantment is a bitch.

I recently recognized that the depression that I’ve fought has returned. It’s a culmination of stress and dissatisfaction, and I have experienced these swings much of my life. I’m not clinically depressed, so I can still function, but it’s harder to get out of bed. It’s harder to go to bed. All changes in momentum are almost terrifying. Even slight hiccups feel like ominous pitfalls. I’m not interested in a litany of doctor’s visits or pills, so I’ll navigate this some other way. Maybe this time, I will find the right answers.

Mr. Williams did not. It took some time for his medical condition to come to light. Chances are slim anyone could have changed his mind. He was a lantern out of oil. If there is any consolation, it is that his passing will teach millions not to take anything for granted, or at face value. Don’t ever assume that person you know will be there tomorrow. Appreciate who they are now. There usually isn’t a goodbye.

I miss his smile. He had a fantastic smile.

Thanks for being here, Robin Williams.

Advertisements

Not A Mused

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , on May 6, 2015 by jezzywolfe

Not all emotions are inspiring. 

That’s said with a certain amount of subjectivity. For many, they coast through a plot riding whatever wave of feeling they are experiencing. They season their stews with all the feels. Good for them, I say… and make a mental note not to partake of some of their stews. I’m on a diet.

But I can’t do that… utilizing every experience to craft another twist. For me, it’s too personal to be applied to some random piece of fictitious flesh. The shit I put up with from day to day, the stress, the obligations, heaped on top of emotional disappointments and heartaches… hell, I don’t write tragedies. Is there even still a market for hopeless melancholy in a Prozac-and-Botoxed-Smiles world? It’s not about getting paid at this point. 

It’s about being heard. 

Besides, is that what I want you to hear? A metaphor about the debaucle that is my life? A bad joke with a dead-pan punchline? Too many tears in not enough beer? Why the fuck am I asking you? 

I don’t want pity. I don’t want any trite sorries or consolations. Life is a shitbag wearing a three piece Armani suit. And I’m not assuming it’s any worse for me than it is for anyone else. So why dress my stories with the bad seasonings of my day to day?

Which means, when things go bad, I shut up shop. 

It’s a self preservation mechanism. It’s all I can do to function mechanically, sometimes. Don’t expect creativity on top of that. I cannot cope with my stresses that way. I don’t take pills, I don’t see a therapist. I keep my inner postal at bay by closing in. I applaud writers that can funnel and channel and kumbayah their setbacks into some stellar gem of literature. I wish I could do the same.

I need to be writing. I need to push it all out of my head, duck down, and get it done. I need to remind myself that every setback is merely another slight hill that I will climb. Pretty soon, I won’t even feel winded. I’ll barely notice the inclines. I’ll barely notice anything at all. Pretty soon, yes.

But damn, how I wish I was already there.

Slip of the Tongue

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , on April 23, 2015 by jezzywolfe

I never considered myself an introvert.

Seems like that’s the prerequisite for a writer, though. Right? Brooding, sitting alone in corners, surrounded by cumulus swirls of cigarette smoke and an obligatory Stein of coffee attached to one hand. A perpetual scowl heaped on top of a black turtleneck. Every sentence mired in the greater meaning of life and the conspiracies of love, politics, and the institution.

Fuck that shit.

I don’t like sitting alone in corners. I love my coffee, true. Replace the cigarettes with incense, replace the conversations with candor and humor. That’s where I sit. Not alone. Maybe with one or two others.

And I can’t tell if that’s introverted. What if it’s just being selective? Really, I often feel fairly empty and alone. Many times, even when I’m physically not. I don’t have answers for that. I don’t have medication. I just have coping mechanisms. And they don’t always work.

So many of us are closed off. Stoic vehicles maneuvering between the circles of our friends. We don’t feel connected to them, even when they’ve known us forever. We smile, play polite games, function rationally. But the mind goes elsewhere and hides. The smiles are thousands of miles away. Or hundreds.

But never here.

There are so many of us.

 

 

“Slip of the Tongue”

I have an auditory addiction.

Chemical synthesis stimulated by whispers and sighs,
A need to be injected through membranes and synapses.
I hold staggered breaths in wait for the next hushed syllables,
Leaking elixir from a drawled ‘lapsus linguae’.

Invading my moonlit bordello.

Syntaxed visions of steeled satin caresses,
I succumb nightly to the tempestuous invocations,
Riding a rush of debauchery defined by punctuated palpitations,
And an appreciation for the spoken art of gratification.

©2005 J.W.

 

 

 

 

 

 

My Life is an Adventurous Tale of Wonderment, High Blood Pressure, and Adventurous Adventure.

Posted in General with tags , , , , , , , , on May 15, 2013 by jezzywolfe
Josh Kathy Street cropped

Looks like someone beat me to the rabbit hole! Photo of Josh courtesy of Kathy Street.

So after all that, you’re expecting the follow-up to Alice and the Rabbit Hole, right?

Sorry.  The only holes I can speak of – other than my financial debts – are the crazed people sucking craters in Floriduh.  And you can read about that for yourself on any nefarious news blog.  The only news you will find here is the ever-developing tale of my life via 2013.  And boy howdy, it’s a page turner!

Let me first apologize for daring to use the phrase ‘boy howdy’.  I promise to never do that again.  What the hell was that?!  I’m not even sure I typed it, but there it is.  So sorry.

January started off incredibly unapocalyptic, and pretty normal.  I was on a mission to purchase the shop I was managing.  That was to be my goal for the year.  But despite all the ‘you can do its’, turns out I really couldn’t do it.  Come mid March, I was looking at a completely blank page in the next chapter of my life.  Desperation kicked in, but this time it was that really smart kind of desperation I don’t usually experience.  Whackadoodle.

So I enrolled in college.  Literally that fast.  One day I was a frame shop manager, the next day I was a student.  I spent an evening prowling the online campus job resources, and pinpointed my destination and degree.  I was steering towards a future in technical writing.  (Which could also qualify me for other writing and editing jobs, so that felt like a smart choice for me.)  As of now, I have successfully completed the orientation course, and after some final paperwork and financial aid matters are situated, I will be starting my first class with University of Phoenix this summer.  And I feel really good about my decision.

Meanwhile, I am unemployed.  Gah!  I have been sending out my resume, and with my experience, not too many places were unhappy to receive it.  But this nightmare economy means no one is in a position to take on a well-experienced framer, no matter how good she is.  There are actually customers who are in need of framing right now, that are choosing to wait until I’m hired somewhere else before they have any more framing done.  I do appreciate their loyalty.  At times, I really do regret that I couldn’t save the shop.  But now I’m being optimistic.  I could never achieve such a career – much less the financial stability it affords – if I stayed in the frame shop.  Surviving at the mercy of a fickle, struggling economy.

I had to move on.

BG Carol Owens smaller

This fuzzy knows a thing or two about staying on his toes! Photo of BG courtesy of Carol Owens.

As I wait for school and a new job to begin, other dilemmas surface to keep me on my toes.  My oldest ferret, Beelzebub, had a large tumor that needed to be surgically removed.  I’m still paying for the operation, but you can barely see his scar now.  So that was a scare I’m happy to have behind me.  And my mother is an ongoing saga that has kept me very busy the past three weeks.  She was in a hospital for a week and a half (after being in and out of another hospital for the previous month) and now she is in a nursing facility.  For now, she is there for rehabilitation, but if she doesn’t improve on physically caring for herself, she might well be going back into a facility for long term treatment.  It’s a huge change for me, because I’ve had my mom with me since my oldest son was born.  No matter what happens, I hope she will start taking better care of herself so she may enjoy the remainder of her life with happy memories and warm surroundings.  It’s a chapter that’s just beginning for us both.

With so much going on, I haven’t had a lot of time for writing.  I haven’t had much time for networking, either.  And there were literally cobwebs on my blog when I signed in to make this post.  I have been at the nursing home almost every day since my mom was admitted.  Watching the staff with a close eye, cause there will be the occasional slip-ups… such as giving my mom ice cream, even though she’s extremely lactose intolerant.  It’s a constant stress, because if I’m not there watching out for her, I feel guilty.

fat boy cropped sarah doe

Now THAT’S one helluva of a nap! Fat Boy photo courtesy of Sarah Doe.

But I am so tired.  Both physically and emotionally.  And the only thing I am inspired to write about is a nap.  But not just any nap, oh no.  This nap would rival even the greatest naps of all time!  And it would include  a sleep number mattress and a fat, cuddly ferret.  That would be one hell of a fantastic nap.

Don’t worry.  I will be back.  I’ll get through this and kick back into writing gear with a vengeance.  And there will be stories.  Boy howdy, will there be stories!

Well damn.  Guess it’s a good thing I didn’t make that promise a resolution.  #BoyHowdyFAIL