Writer's Block

Right.  

I have got awful writer's block, like, I had a good five hundred words going on and then just deleted all of it because it's just all dross and I can't actually say what I mean at all.  Let's look at this fortnight in review for now though, and see all the things that I could have written about instead:

MY MOTHER CAME TO VISIT which was brilliant and hilarious.  I totally wasn't expecting her to visit at all, never mind appearing in evensong last Wednesday.  We have gone hither and yon to the beach and back with the world's stupidest (but arguably nicest) dog, argued, made up, but mostly just had a great laugh.  I miss my mother more than I will admit to because NOW I AM AN ADULT (I pay my own phonebill yah) and this is about the fifth year I've lived away from home (although I have never lived on my own properly, not that I will be able to afford such a luxury in Cornwall...).

I SPENT £100 IN A WEEK that wasn't solely on alcohol or curry.  Suit cleaning, singing lessons, mobile telephone bill and jewellery repair.  I finally got my Hardie Amies suit sorted out, splashing out an a ridiculous "Executive Service" from Johnsons the cleaners complete with the utterly decadent option of having the creases put back in my trousers.  What a pervert.  I also got my little gold ring soldered back together which now once more adorns my right 4th finger where it belongs, after its mysterious disappearance waaaaaay back in... October?  I dunno.  That whole Michaelmas term was pretty dark.  But anyway!  It's back, back I say.  I have three rings and now three wooden bracelets, alongside my two silver chains, so I can safely say I regularly wear the most in decorative items in probably the whole choir.

I HELPED PAINT A WALL for my friends who are trying to establish a new Bar on the end of Old Bridge Street.  After a less than satisfactory Friday night, I resigned myself to wandering around Truro in some sort of lost and aimless fashion, thinking that perhaps some retail therapy could aid my ailing spirits...but no, not this week so I instead reported to the site of the Nightjar in my appointed paint gear, and got stuck in getting paint on walls, myself.  It was a distinctly enjoyable way to spend a Saturday, actually, a lot of laughs and a lot got done.  I enjoy helping people.

I'M PREPARING FOR A CONCERT in front of the general public not  in the Cathedral, although I can't exactly remember who for... It's some sort of fundraiser for one of the opera troupes that operates round here, I'm not terribly bothered about the whys and wherefores (unsurprisingly), more the fact that I'm going to get to sing Charles Ives' setting of feldeinsamkeit in public again.  It's all good experience, and I'm sure once I get through this period of lacking my usual creative spirit, I'll be able to write about just why this is so important in the face of my current choice of becoming a more permanent part of Truro Cathedral Choir. 

This has gone through about three working drafts, and two total deletions (META WRITING), and I'm still not happy with it.  I feel... that I should write, that it is my duty to keep publishing - of course there will be those of you who will argue that it stifles creativity, but I'm disappointed that the first thing I'm going to publish in a fortnight is this weak effort!  I suppose I will be judging it far more harshly than you might, but all the same, the last time I went through that many redrafts, it was my dissertation and we all remember how much fun I had trying to write THAT at 3am on the 8th of April, 2011.  Of course my plans for ink move at about the same pace, being rather reliant on being able to afford the stuff at the moment.  And seriously guys, don't you worry out there.  I'm okay, it's still me: I can't get a date.  I'm sure I'll be able to look back on these years with some amusement... but now is not that time.  I'm perfectly prepared to be bitter and angry about the last five years of romantic near-misses for the duration.  Thanks.

But that's enough for now.  If I write any more, I shall only delete it, try to start over and then just give up for another week.  My spelling has been awful for the duration as well, to an infuriating level.  I'm still writing that piece about Killer7, so that'll go up at some point in the future, if I ever edit it to a satisfactory level. 

For now though... Oy.