I'm currently in my relentless mind-mode on and as usual, cannot do much about it; I can't write, draw, or even talk much. My mind was so full and noisy and as the days go by, the tension built up, and it gets even more difficult for me to channel everything. Just like a bottle too full of liquid and a too small neck. To release even a single bit of what's inside will involve a lot of tension, and painful. The only thing I could do is to wait until my mind cannot take it any longer and deciding to burst by itself. Still painful, but perhaps less, maybe because I'm doing it automatically, my body decide to do that as part of a survival mechanism, to keep my sanity intact.
Anyway, I found this nice piece about writing as catharsis.
Here's a worth quoting phrase from one of the books discussed in the piece (Story, written by Robert McKee):
“To ask this is to ask why we like to tell and hear stories at all. Perhaps, we need to be cleansed of the aimless chaos of our lives. The characters and actions of real life are raw, in unorganized state; Arthur Miller (Death of a Salesman) wrote, ‘The very impulse to write springs from an inner chaos crying for order, for meaning…’'
It helps explaining what I've been feeling all the time about writing. And it helped me write something today, even if it only this one blog post.
Hope you find it useful :)
Sunday late afternoon, 2.26 pm