“And it’s so pretty and so lonely”

I’m frustrated. I’m sorry. That’s an understatement. I’m Sheldon Cooper when Leonard, Howard, and Raj cut him off during his talk about tapioca pudding. Brimming at the top. A fountain of emotional venom and damage. It’s one part work. Two parts personal baggage. A splash of the mental illness I’m to stubborn to seek help for.

Unlucky are those who follow me on Facebook. These poor suckers receive the brunt of my emotional tirades. I sought comfort in the arms of the Status Update. There’s a chance that those status updates are just small cries for help. I’m not a psychologist, nor do I see one. It’s the only conclusion that makes sense. To me, anyway. These thoughts are better kept in my journal for a later date.

A lot of things hint toward the inevitable reinvention. My inability to write anything creative. The inability to lose myself in a book. A lack of passion in my work. The fact that there are four boxes of unread comic books. The unquenchable thirst to spend money on things that aren’t needed. A short temper. Opting to watch Family Guy over doing almost anything else. A week is passing without my daily routine of going for a walk/jog. Second guessing myself. Finding myself agreeing with Sam Harris.

I don’t like this. This person I am. This person I allowed myself to become. Seemingly overnight. Somewhere the ennui—the weltschmerz—conquered. I’m on automatic. Going through the motions. Fragmented thoughts and ideas that are born and decay with short breaths. In short—I am a mess.

In the past, I used Buddhist philosophy to rebuild my psyche. I feel that wouldn’t work now. So I’m going to do something I’ve been too stubborn to do in the past. (And Rene will agree with me on this.) Fixing myself is just editing. It’s finding the comma splices. The grammatical errors. Removing the excess. Killing adjectives and adverbs and clichés. That’s not enough to save a failing story. Sometimes the only key is revision. To see the story from a new angle, a new perspective.

With phase three, I hope to resurface from my writing hiatus. The frequency of “Posts by Shaun” will increase. I’ll work in prose and verse poems written on index cards somehow. After reading an article in the May/June issue of Writer’s Digest, I’m inspired to step out of my writing comfort zone. The same issue revived my passion for flash fiction. Buying a copy of the current issue of Noon sealed the deal. I’ll work flash fiction—in conjunction with my dime-store fiction—into this site. A return to book conversations—because I still can’t write reviews. And ending the post with music videos. That’s something I already do, but I wanted to add it anyway.

I can’t guarantee that I won’t slip back into my hole. I’ll try my damnedest not to. Until phase three, keep doing you. Yeah. I didn’t know how to end this. Sorry.

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