Rebirth…and the fear of writing

I’ll be honest with you, it has been a long time between proverbial drinks.

There was a time wherein I would excuse my absences from blogging as “going out and having a life.” At 36, that excuse doesn’t quite hack it any more.

The real reason most likely is that I got afraid of writing. I started to think that there is really nothing I have to add to the global cacophony, so I retreated inward.

For my working life, that probably was the wisest decision I could’ve done at the time, but for my emotional health, that was the worst decision, because it cut me off from why I so strongly pursued being a writer for many years: a belief that my voice and perspective is valid and will always be valid.

Lest you think I’m sounding cocky, the fact that I believe that my voice is valid does not mean that others aren’t, quite the opposite, it is only through dialogue and interaction that we grow as writers, as artists, and as people.

Confidence, I believe, is something that a lot of writers either have in abundance or scarcely at all. There has to be something driving that urge to write and to publicly share that writing, and writing is itself a builder of and destroyer of confidence.

For me, every time I see a blank screen, I am struck with a high degree of both terror and anticipation. Believe you me, I wish I could separate these two, but alas, they always come in a pair, like sweet-and-sour yin yang,

The terror is somewhat technical: all that empty space that I’m supposed to fill up with my thoughts while a word counter ever so languidly ticks over yet another word. (Aren’t word counters the worst? It’s like a return to those halcyon days of 1000 word essay writing assignments.)

The anticipation is a bit harder to describe: I know something is going to come out, but I don’t know exactly what it will be and what it will reveal about myself.

I do know one thing, though, that the longer I hold it in my internal world, the more crowded my head becomes.

And that is the main reason for why I’m reawakening this corner of the internet. My thoughts have become too crowded inside my head, and that’s not what I want my internal world to be like.

Rainbow

Rainbow

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Hikaru Meets the World of Tokyo Catastropheland

I remember Meet the World as a wide-eyed pre-teen, were that I could view it now.

Such is the wonders of podcasting.

 

The Full Catastrophe

Posted by Hikaru “Meeting the world with love” Freeman

It’s another time travelin’ wacky journey to everyone’s favourite theme park, Catastropheland, where “rested” attractions from other theme parks are open forever.

This time around, Andy escapes the whimsy of time travel, but Hikaru finds himself 12 years younger and 12 times more…opinionated as he takes a ride through an interesting take on Japanese history.

Blame Prince Shotoku!

Hikaru in Tokyo Catastropheland

For the real story behind Meet the World, visit this tribute site, and also take a look at the Wikipedia entry for the Japan pavilion at Epcot, which would’ve hosted an English language version of Meet the World, save for some creative choices.

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Becoming One of Those People

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These days it seems that we are always organised into tribes called “us” and “them.”

Not like that is anything new, it’s been going on since the dawn of human existence, I reckon.

Perhaps in this modern age it seems that the lines are becoming more sharper.

There was a time that I used to deride people whose lives were governed by their fitness regime.

Not so anymore.

Slowly, but surely, I’ve become one of “those” people.

Most mornings I jog, and now–despite losing a tooth in the surf–I’m quite happy to add on swimming.

The question I ask myself though is “have I lost what made me me?”

Or is this just merely evolving?

Perhaps the more important question one should ask is: Do I enjoy it?

That answer is yes.