Bradtastic Premier

Blogging is a nice, efficient, quick and easy way to get some writing done — published, “out there,” available to the masses. It has its limitations, however… most annoying, needing a computer of some kind for efficient blogging. Yes, I can update from the iPhone/iTouch or other handhelds without too-badly straining thumbs, but the process is slow. Slower, anyway, slower than handwriting.

Being on the computer hasn’t been so easy for me recently; I haven’t been feeling well, I haven’t been able to sit up and use the computer very much. Long story short — nasty medication side-effects messed me up. Pretty bad.

I haven’t been able to write as much as I’d like; insofar as that effects my abilities I’m not sure, but my spurts feel rather cyclic.

Sometimes there’s so much on my mind, it seems incomprehensible that I’d ever have another moment staring at an empty page or empty lines without remedy. Hours pass as I struggle to maintain composure — my shoulder is agonizing and my body is shaking in pain and anguish. I want to stop writing… I need to stop writing… however, I can’t. I can’t put my pen down; there’s too much on my mind, and I think to myself, “what if I forget something later?” I feel like my day should contain more than twenty-four hours and I curse my pain problem and feel drowsy from the meds. Many hours pass, and eventually, my concentration breaks and I close my eyes for just a moment longer than a blink… I momentarily doze off mid-sentence, followed by a jolt — a startling sensation reminiscent of a myoclonic spasm. I am forced to quit, say to myself “I’m done,” and rest. Dozens of previously blank, untouched pages are now filled with fragments of me. Almost Bradtastic, indeed.

Almost predictably and always disheartening comes a vacuous state full of confusion and compositional nothingness. I can’t seem to write anything. I try to write “I can’t seem to write anything,” and… I can’t! Flabbergasted, I stare at the blank page in disbelief. I flip through previous triumphs of my enduring spirit… I read my previous descriptions of my desire for more time and energy to continue writing — it hurts. A lot.

Welcome to the rougher side. Part of my life.

My life is a lot of pain. Though my situation is seemingly redundant — as are my complaints of pain — it’s impossible to become accustomed or acclimated to the condition. It’s never routine or regular. Constant physical pain is torture. Insidious.

Fortunately, I have family, faith… help. I’ll get through it, and have some stories to share. Eventually, the bright skies darken and I can think clearly again. Night falls, and for me, that’s good news. I reawaken.

And now…