90 in 90: Volume II

I wanted to start off my newest attempts at a 90 in 90 with something light. Something easy. Something simple. But I should have known better. My brain isn't wired that way. I can't just sit down and write something easy. My fingers automatically start typing the first thing that comes to mind. And that is rarely something simple.
Today it was something so complex that I didn't even know where to begin. It was fragmented. Filled with half finished sentences that told everything and nothing. Everything because I knew what they meant. Nothing because no one else ever would. It took me ten minutes of this to find out the real starting point. What I really wanted to say.

I have no dreams.
No dreams. No goals. No aspirations.
Nothing.

At least not anything I'm consciously aware of.

And I don't know what to do with that. I'm twenty-one. I'm so terrifyingly young. And I have absolutely no idea what to do with the time I've been given. I went to school to be a writer. I don't even know if I want to do that anymore.

Writing is hard. Writing is terrible. The words get inside you and break you down. Leave you with nothing but them and a lingering sense that you're not even doing that right. I can't tell you how many times a sentence gets edited in my own head before I start typing it. I can't tell you how many times I start a sentence and then erase it anyway. Writing is hard. It's the easiest and the hardest thing I've ever done.

Maybe I should start small. Something "easy" and not too intimidating. Nothing like writing a novel or winning a nobel prize, Maybe I should just start out with finishing this 90 in 90. An obtainable goal. One I've accomplished before. Ninety days of writing. Ninety days of me trying my hardest to get 500 semi-coherent words on a page. Ninety days of sitting down and looking at a blank screen without giving up before I've started. I think I can look out a window for 90 days and find something worth writing about. Something that I can make 500 words from.

Today, 500 words are hard to find. Because there's so much I want to say, so much I tried to write down when I started this post. I wrote too much. I tried too hard. All my thoughts and feelings got jumbled up and dumped out on the page. Anybody can jumble up words and vomit them onto a page. Anybody. But that wasn't what I wanted to do. I set out to write and came out with word-vomit. And now, 450 words later I still haven't said anything that was really worth saying.

But I suppose that was the point of all this. To write until I know what the hell I'm doing. Hopefully at some point in the next 90 days that will happen. If not, there's another 90 days after that to try and figure out.

Quote of the Day:
"Writing gives you the illusion of control, and then you realize it's just an illusion, that people are going to bring their own stuff into it."
- David Sedaris