Writer's Block
Every writer dreads writer's block. It's the bane of anyone who has ever taken up a pen to write; it's like this horrid feeling of having something in mind to write, and yet not knowing what words to use. Or, in some cases, not knowing what to write at all.
Generally, the solution often offered is to write, even if it's crappy. I've decided that's decent advice, so here goes...
Actually, it's not that I can't think of anything to write about. It's more along the lines of having too many things to write about and not enough time to write them down. Working in my father's office isn't very conducive because you have to keep track of the time, making me lazy to actually start writing.
I'm not too sure why, but I guess that my blog's limited audience has something to do with it. Sure, I love writing, but there's not much point when you're writing to yourself.
Clearly, I need to promote this site more. It's got a niche, that's for sure; the problem is how to advertise it without paying money or looking like a jackass. Another worrying part is that considering the subject matter and the length of my writings, it's going to be hard to find a Malaysian who can sit down and read for more than a minute.
Perhaps I should diversify; that might solve the problem. I haven't had enough "real" traditional blog postings lately (i.e. this one, although generally blog entries are shorter).
Ah, well, that's for another time. I've reached the next stage of writer's block now; there's nothing left to write. Till we meet again, fair reader.
(Infernal Ramblings is a Malaysian website focusing on current events and sociopolitical issues. Its articles run the gamut from economics to society to education.
Infernal Ramblings is run by John Lee. For more, see the About section. If you have any questions or comments, do drop him a line.
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johnleemk
Infernally Rambling Thoughtless Mind Head Administrator Posts: 949 IP Logged | Posted at 11:06:37 am Oct 8, 2005
One thing that's perturbed me for a long time is our consciousness - the ability to know for sure where we are, who we are, and that our environment is real. After all, it is impossible to be truly be sure that I am real, or that any of you guys are real. Perhaps, as in the Truman Show, you are all actors, and I'm unwittingly starring in a dramatic reality show. Or as in the Matrix, we're in a computer-simulated reality. Worser still, I might be a schizophrenic (or suffering from some other mental disease), and what I perceive as reality is a horrid farce. Of course, it doesn't matter. I don't really perceive the real world, and I live quite contentedly in my dream world. But even so, it's frightening to think that when I greet my family at the breakfast table, I might be talking to a family that hate me, staff of an asylum that look down or me, or maybe just the wall. And if I see someone smile at me, how do I know whether they are really smiling or snarling, and in my deranged mental state, I interpret their anger as joy or light-heartedness? Another troubling matter is that even if I do live in the real world and not some cooked up imaginary fantasy-land where I defy the real laws of nature, how can I be sure of my past? The only moment I am sure of is the present. It is quite possible the universe was just created a second ago, and all this text on my computer screen had never been there before, with my memories prefabricated by some mysterious being. Even if the universe hasn't just come into existence, there remains the fact that I have no way of knowing whether my past has been fabricated. I might have been a beggar on the streets until a few months ago, and then adopted with new memories implanted in my brain. Or I might have committed a terrible crime, and had my brain reprogrammed with new experiences and memories to prevent any trauma to myself and a recurrence of such an incident. Even without these, the fact remains that large swathes of my memory remain inaccessible. They lie in limbo. Sure, I remember my first home in Malaysia (a condominium) but how much do I really remember? There are so many neighbours and incidents my mother can recall but I have no knowledge of. This makes me wonder what it's like to live with your memory wiped. After all, imagine not knowing your past or anything you have done or accomplished. It would be pretty devastating - every time a visitor came, or you read an old book, it would be like meeting the person or reading the book for the first time. And then you'd be shocked to find out that person was your best friend, or that the book was your favourite book. And if your character was changed, that'd be interesting too. (Random memory out of nowhere: I remember this occurring to Lina Teoh's character in the TV show Kopitiam.) When you read old writings of yours or heard descriptions of yourself or even watched videos of yourself, how would you react? What would it be like? Consciousness is weird.  |
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