Weekly Words 2

Push yourself in school and get good grades. Get good grades and get into a good college. Graduate college at any cost, because you will be handed a career after college that will carry you through the rest of your life. Now get a car. Now get a house. Now get a mortgage so you can get a second car. Now get a credit card, use it constantly, and tell yourself it is for the card rewards. Now remember that this is the only way to become an adult.
A whole generation of people came of age at the tail end of an old way of life that was not a viable solution to living in the new millennium. This generation of people, whose parents were lucky enough to come of age when a high school diploma was enough to get somebody a steady job they could support a family with that job, has been struggling to compete in an economy built off the old ways of living life. Competing not only with each other but with people from older generations that are still competing for the same jobs due to the recent recession. Jobs that the lost generation doesn't even want in the first place. Jobs designed for the old economy with 40+ hour work weeks that leave little time for a personal life or creative endeavors, unless sleeping for less than 6 hours a night is fun for you.
For most people this is just what's necessary to hang on from paycheck to paycheck. A lot of people are dealing with crushing student loan debt and high rent prices that make getting by an accomplishment in and of itself. Trapped by expenses in big cities with dwindling job prospects and exploding populations. Few are able to get it together to get out of where ever they are, faced with a paycheck that leaves them two choices: spend what little extra was earned on something to make their stuck lives better or live with the patience and lifestyle of a monk to save up and get out. Neither is terribly appealing given that the two options are mutually exclusive in most cases.
I don't know where I'm going with any of this. Certainly not toward a new profound understanding of the problem or a solution. It's just been in the news a lot lately. What with Bernie Sanders is leading the national conversation with his presidential campaign. He's a crafty politician who is using the truth about income inequality and the rampant bribery passed off as political donations from corporate lobbying groups to get the population motivated to vote in next year's presidential election. Whether you're voting for him or not, he is still striking a nerve with the population that understands the way the world looks like it is shaping itself and doesn't like it.
I can't help feeling part of the statistics being talked about in most of these news stories. I still remember how excited I was back in 2008 to leave my then "unbearable" job to start looking for work elsewhere. At the time, I'd received a few other job offers while working at the place, so I'd expected it to be an easy task. Then the national economy fell apart and I stumbled for 5 months before I found something else. All it took was 5 months for the white picket fence dream to evaporate. That is an empty feeling that is hard to fill when you're unemployed. It's been a long while since then though. I'm way overdue for building a new happy ending dream. I'm just not sure what it could be yet.

Weekly Words 1

What's in a title change? Less obligation to an arbitrarily specific idea and more flexibility in this case. I get distracted by my weeks sometimes. Coming off a weekend and wrestling with the fact that I've got another 45 hours of work time before my next weekend, obsessing over the things I didn't get done. Life gets away from you when you pay too much attention. Needless to say I've decided my goal isn't a specific day of the week to spill my head, as long as it's done once a week. This could be the death knell of my whole effort: giving myself room to ignore my goals. I don't think so though, but this will be a good challenge for me anyway.

This week The Midnight Disease by Alice W Flaherty has been staring at my from my shelf for a while now. A book about inspiration as a replicable brain state that is written by a neurologist. She talks about how certain brain states caused by trauma (two examples she uses are postpartum depression and people that had injuries to their brains) compel the person toward creative express without every really knowing why they have this new need for it. Some people turned to painting pictures after a brain injury, after having spent a life with no interest in it previously. Her own experience with postpartum depression caused her to write prolifically. The book is very interesting in parts, but then other parts read like they were written by a neurologist.
It forced me to confront the idea that all the periods of my life that have been filled with my most prolific writing have been a result of whatever unique brain chemistry cocktail I had pumping through my noggin at the time. It is strange trying to wrap my head around the fact that my inspiration had been a compelling force out of my control, but it came from a place within me. Inspiration from my brain guts and not some exterior force. The idea helps put my efforts into perspective. At least in the sense of knowing that my chemically induced brain state is replicable. At least I don't remember any physical trauma to brain during any of these times; and I don't have any new scars on my head that I can't remember getting either.
I don't know that bringing about those specific brain states that caused all that activity in the "gotta write" center of my brain is necessary. I think moving forward is more a matter of training the conscious part of my brain how to better interpret the parts of itself that I try to avoid. It will be an effort in understanding the absences and silences in all my thoughts. When I find those places where there are things I can't say, won't say, or don't know how to say I'll look for the shape, broad strokes, and edges of it. The details come out in whatever I end up writing. Now if I can just figure out how the hell I'm supposed to do any of that I'll be set to have carpel tunnel inflaming hours of writing.