Good Dang

Veddy interesting. I disarm all the social media outlets in my life, and suddenly I'm thinking more clearly and sighing more often from contentment than from fedupness. (sometimes, you just gotta fill a bulletproof blank with what works best--whether Webster agrees with you or not.)

These past couple days felt like the moment last fall when I recognized I could look back on depression and not through it. Maybe it's that whole quarter-life crisis thing. Maybe I use words like "depression" and "anxiety" because I don't know any better. I suppose weak moments find us least likely to establish new terms; already dim motivation skims through existing definitions and accepts the ones that sound best. But I don't like them. They're clinical and worrisome and inadequate. Just like "happy" and "hopeful" and "peaceful" don't cover the opposite.

Dang. Every single post has this blog's founding concept at the root of it. That's a good dang.

Is that what separates "writers" from not? "Writers" in quotes because those who self-identify as such are not necessarily equals. I don't write because I need others to hear me. In fact, the idea that people might hear me is the most unsettling part. I write because I need to respond to what I've heard. And my responses lose themselves--or do I lose them? accidentally? or with purpose?--in a maelstrom of feared inadequacies, lukewarm metaphors, hackneyed adverbs, expired comparisons. Writing is my effort to forgo the lifejacket and dive in to find them.

what's that I was saying about lukewarm metaphors?

Not having to sort my thoughts into Facebook-appropriate blurbs has freed them. I embody my car as it zooms down suburban roads, windows down, bass overcoming the treble. People can hear me, but unless they follow me, my voice disappears. And that's how it should be. We should wonder where all the sounds go. We should follow those we miss when they're gone.

I think the weather has something to do with it. Spring makes my soul happy. It's not spring now, but it feels like it is. My soul must be easily tricked.

Thanks, everyone, for reading. Thanks for following my sound.