In my twenty-eight years on this planet, I have never encountered anything quite like the organ twisting,
self-esteem massacring, want to hurl-myself-off-a-cliff-side-and-wash-away-all-traces-of-my-pathetic-existence, that attempting to write something of worth stirs in me -- all within the first three seconds of opening my laptop. What IS that?!? I haven't even typed one word and already my hands are trembling, pulse is racing, and there is a rhinoceros sitting on my chest. And am I mistaken, or did my vision just go black for a second? I mean, come on! Sitting down to work on my book does not need to put me in a state of bleak dysphoria.
I am not Jake Gyllenhaal, deactivating a bomb in the Source Code. I am not Tom Hanks, on the brink of unveiling possibly THE most controversially debated religious issue. I am not Gregory House M.D., mid-epiphany after a consult with Wilson, about to solve a medically implausible case, save the girl from a flesh eating virus, all while leaving me plenty of time to belittle my diagnostics team before I go down a half a bottle of Vicodin (Good show. Look it up on Hulu). I am simply Cara; writing a book, because it's fun. Er. Scratch that. Used to be fun. Last time I checked, experiencing a cocktail of symptoms, varying somewhere between cholera and spina-bifida is not a whole lot of fun. So! This is a dilemma, yes? I need to be able to put my prose on the page if I want to see this book finished before the actors I envision playing my teenage characters hit fifty-five.
What I need is some perspective; a real look at a situation conclusively agreed upon as terrible. Inside the garret I confine myself in each day, my world can seem quite desolate and hopeless. Cliche dialogue, a run-on sentence, or consistent usage of an incorrect "your" can spin me into hysterics in a mere 2.5 milliseconds. A fatal epidemic is sweeping across Africa, tornadoes are ripping apart entire cities, tsunamis are destroying hundreds of years of unprecedented industry and innovation and me... well, I'm barely clinging to my sanity because I can't seem to get my sentence structure just right. Hm. Yea... some perspective might be helpful. Thus, I have decided to blog about a day that has *almost* reached that point where I might find its atrocity humorous.