Stealling My Words Away

Words are friends. I love books. I love words. When people talk to me, I often can see the words they are saying. I have to work at not commenting on small nuances of what they are saying. I hear them speak and hear the letters or phonemes they are mispronouncing or omitting from the dialect.

With all of that, it is often quite difficult to wright a document or post to the blog. I almost feel violated after I'm done. It's like I gave away something that was mine or showed to something naked.

There are times when I write that when I'm done, I can't figure out how I wrote it. The same is true for painting. I finish a painting, I like it, then I think, "I couldn't have done that. How did I actually do that."

I believe that is because in order to be creative I must tap into a part of my brain that is not as structured or orderly. Then once I've created something, I can't seem to retrace well defined steps for how I got there.

At work I agree to write documents that conceptually I know I can write, but the document itself scares me. I think, how can I do that? Do I really know how to do that? I probe around in my head for clear evidence that I know how to do it, but it's creative I guess, so I can't see it.

This is weird, and I don't understand it.

Adam