Fuck.
I should be writing more.
Not good – me writing so little.
Not enough words.
No, not enough good words.
I need a break.
Already?
Tired after writing this?
How embarrassing.
This is nowhere near good enough.
Never good enough.
Fuck.
Why do I make this so hard?
That’s what she said.
Fuck.
And I call myself a writer.
This is pathetic.
I am pathetic.
Give up.
Grow up.
Get up.
Go, do something else.
Exercise for once goddamit.
Walk, lift something, hit something.
Do anything but this.
Another bad day for writing.
That’s all.
Yeah.
Another bad day in a long line of them.
How many will it take for me to take a hint?
Fuck.
Maybe if I read more, that would help.
What to read?
Too many choices – so little time.
Will this inspire me, or discourage me?
No, my time needs to be spent writing, not reading.
So I need to find more time then.
Need to cut out more of my social life.
What social life?
Cut back on my leisure activities, maybe.
So I can become another worker drone?
More writing, less working.
Gotta quit my day job.
Working too much.
Need to work less, write more.
Simple as that.
But need money to live.
And I call this living?
Pathetic.
Fuck.
Category: inspiration
empowerment through radical fiction
I don’t have to tell you things are bad.
Everybody knows things are shit – it’s a gd depression.
Nobody can find work and if they do they’re scared of being harassed and exploited.
Everybody’s exhausted or too tired to care much, to speak of anything of real meaning.
Governments and Corporations are running wild in the streets.
Hardly anyone anywhere seems to know what to do, and there’s no end to it.
We know the air is unfit to breathe, the waters are unfit to drink.
And we sit inside, on our phones and laptops, scrolling and swiping.
Tweets and Stories telling us about what that shithole 45 has done, said, fucked up, and we can only watch in disbelief, smh as if that’s the way it’s supposed to be.
Yeah, shit is bad – worse than bad – fucking dystopic, catastrophic, apocalyptic.
So what do we do?
We don’t go out anymore.
We hide in our rooms, where we are safer, trying to forget our responsibilities, our privileges.
“Please, just leave me be.
Let me have my iphone and my coffee-maker, and I won’t say anything…
Just leave us alone.”
Well, I will leave you alone but I know that is not what you really want right now.
That’s why you are still reading.
So what is to be done?
I don’t want you to protest, or to write to some official because I wouldn’t know what to tell you to protest about or what to write.
I don’t know what to do about this gd depression, about nuclear war, about the drones, about all the refugees, about the NSA, about the trump nazis, about our dying Earth and her Animals or about the prison industrial complex.
So what, then?
life legacies – what are you waiting for?
Please enjoy the irony of how long it took for me to finally just finish writing this post.
It was the past couple of weeks that helped me do it – not borne out of some desperate New Years resolution but actually, a mix of travelling that saw me at my grandmother’s funeral and flying in planes (which I’m quite dreadful with) and being stranded in Ottawa because of a blizzard that kept me from returning home for 5 extra days.
By the time I got home here in Nunavut, I was so flipping pleased just to be finally back. The return journey was awful but that was not what I was focusing on (maybe because I had gotten just really desperate?), and now I am already appreciating how much I need to transfer this perspective to my writing and my life as a whole.
Thinking about death and waiting and delays and everything, it occurred to me how we all leave a legacy behind, and that the scariest thing about that is not leaving a flawed reputation or something but instead leaving this life without ever coming close to finishing (or beginning?) something you fully wish to accomplish – like writing a book.
Like, stay with me a moment when I introduce a slightly morbid notion that you, reader, are going to die unexpectedly on the precise date of:
ONE YEAR, 3 MONTHS, 5 DAYS from TODAY.
Since I’m not a life insurance salesperson, I’m not going to talk to you about getting your affairs and stuff in order, but instead I am going to encourage you to really imagine what you wish to do, say, visit, overcome, leave behind, or accomplish before that date comes to pass and your time here is history.
Think of this not as some death sentence but instead as that big moment in every story when the character’s life-as-they-know-it changes because they cannot ever go back to the ignorance that they held at the story’s very beginning. Feels better already, right?
Okay, allow that news above to really register in your subconscious before continuing…
Continue reading “life legacies – what are you waiting for?”
murder me, archie wrote
Apologies for the dramatic title, but these Jessica Fletcher gifs are not going to appreciate themselves okay?
But I meant what I wrote – murder me.
Who you think you are – let that who die, pass away, leave you behind.
And by that, I mean: get out of your way, get out of your head, get out of bed, get out of your funk, go outside, get beyond your expectations for today, and just get on with it.
So, are you confused yet?
Wondering what am I talking about?
Doubtful that I even have a point here?
Suspicious that I might be stalling, trying to improvise an answer to my own rhetorical questions?
Am I just trying to create filler to fit in more Murder, She Wrote gifs?
Let me clarify with another JF classic (okay, it may have been partly that last one).
But seriously now – across so many spiritual practices and psychological disciplines, there is a fairly consistent agreement about the notion of layered identities. Continue reading “murder me, archie wrote”
finding beauty in written word [again]
Like everyone, sometimes you have moments when you lose direction.
You struggle to recall why you are doing this, what’s the point, who cares and so forth…
In other words: doubt.
Doubting ourselves and our intentions for whatever we are trying to accomplish.
Doubting our talents as forever inferior, incapable to ever fully accomplish something.
Doubting our medium, the chosen form of artistic expression, to be the proper conduit to channel our deepest truths into something seen, heard, felt, witnessed by another.
Sometimes, I doubt whether I should be writing –
if written words are able to satisfy what I desperately need to say.
But when I begin to lose clarity in my purpose, I turn to something, anything, that demonstrates the true beauty of the written word.
It helps remind myself how it has been done before and can be done again in new ways.
Continue reading “finding beauty in written word [again]”
the gap between vision and reality
Hi!
I wanted to share this short clip from an interview with Ira Glass, presented in the lovely format of kinetic typography.
His words are especially relevant for anyone doing creative work because it reminds us all how the quality of perseverance is essential to the long-term success of honing talent.
Everyone needs the investment of time, of practice, to improve any skill set.
For writers, it is the skill of communicating clearly and simply our own inner vision.
Remember that – keep going ❤
archie.
why archie writes – reclaiming my life
To really answer that, to explain why I write, I have to go back a few years.
I spent most of my childhood and adolescence inside schools: Kindergarten, Primary School, Middle School, Secondary School, then university for two consecutive degrees.
During this time, I developed a wish to help – who or how, I was still unsure on that part.
After abandoning plans to become a “mad scientist”, I eventually specialized in Criminal Justice and Criminology and worked for a few years at different Legal Aid clinics.
It was an interesting time for me that afforded opportunity to work alongside inspiring people – mostly women – who mentored me about the legal system and its shortcomings at addressing the root causes of social injustices.
Still, I carried a vague aspiration to help people.
The insights from these lawyers, social workers and counsellors all likely contributed to me soon seeking out alternative ways to effect change through volunteerism and community actions (including organizing many large-scale events and demonstrations).
I was feeling more aligned with what I wanted to be doing, to be helping others.
It was in my late twenties that my life switched course.
archie the writer – becoming a full-time artist, not growing up or getting a job
I hate work.
I really do.
I think most people do too.
And by ‘work’, I mean essentially any situation where you would not be there, doing that task, associating with that place or those coworkers, if not being paid for it.
That creates a pretty clear distinction between:
- careers that really challenge ourselves to grow, expanding upon our own potential, rewarding our efforts and investment of time and talents…
- jobs we do to pay off debts and otherwise serve as a checkpoint in life because we were told this is how to be an adult.
This is an important difference, but so often do we conflate ideas under one broad label. Just as we mislabel ‘work’, we confuse ‘success’ (equating personal fulfilment with competitive materialism) or ‘confidence’ (equating liking yourself with pride and vanity).
Continue reading “archie the writer – becoming a full-time artist, not growing up or getting a job”