Happy Life Means Nothing to Write

As you may have noticed, I’ve been experiencing a bit of writer’s block as of late. Though that writer’s block may be attributed more to a dry spell that leads to two posts about the same scenario in which I get stood up. Wow. The more I write the more pitiful I sound, maybe that’s why I’ve lacked the motivation to post as of late.

Fact is, I’ve realized something I already knew, bad relationships (or just bad dating experiences) make excellent muses. They also help you to really appreciate the fruits of someone else’s turbulent love life. I have an embarrassing amount of playlists created to help me get over some scumbag guy. And now, with nothing driving me to a state of melancholia, all of this empowering Beyonce and commiserating Jeff Buckely lacks a purpose. I can barely remember what it’s like to need Schulyer Fisk to strum my pain with her fingers.

I always thought I loathed relational drama and that it served no purpose in a life I tried to build on solid ground. But now I’m starting to second-guess this theory. Maybe all those knockdown, drag-out fights with my ex were exactly what I needed in order to feel feelings? Ok, that’s a gross path to even hypothetically meander down. Pointless, hurtful fights are not worth the little ink on the page they may produce. Maybe I should just take my inspiration from the tragic, public altercations of others?  

Yes, I know I can find something other than broken relationships to spur my writing. I’ve essentially been doing that for the past two years. And crappy, uninspired short fiction by definition requires no inspiration. But getting over a relationship can also serve to be a great motivator for other things. After you make it through the “hand me my sweat pants and a box of Thin Mints my life is over and I am now going to commit suicide by overconsumption of processed sugar” phase, there’s the “I’m going to do everything I can to be a bigger, better version of the girl he dumped because screw him and I wanna win and all that jazz” phase.

This is the stage I really kind of miss. The one that makes you chop your hair (ok I do that without prompting, too) and put on your running shoes. I remember it like a Rocky Montage with the single solidarity and woman empowerment section of the aforementioned playlists rocking in the background.

You have visions of doing all the things you never got to do while you were in that stifling relationship. You are going to travel the world, learn a new language, move up in your career and become a concert pianist just because you are that good at life and you are going to prove it to him—er I mean yourself. Of course, many of these grand dreams of post-relationship greatness tend to be tempered by the reality of work, life and Cheesecake Factory’s Red Velvet Cheesecake. But still that feeling is pretty awesome while it lasts. And it’s a unique feeling really only experienced when coming out of that low period.

I realize how insane this all sounds. No one in her right mind would long for a break up. Well maybe Kim Kardashian because it means more publicity. Bam! Topical! (I am so, so sorry. That really was unacceptable.) Desiring a relationship? Sure, that’s normal, but the demise of a relationship? I guess I just miss the range of feelings a relationship can make you experience sometimes. Yes, I’m happy with my life right now and happy is a great feeling. And I get sad about things like a normal human being with a pulse. But there is an exclusive and entirely different set of emotions that can only stem from the ups and downs of interacting with someone who you allow to have a great deal of influence over your world because of loooove. And as much as I loathe to admit it sometimes, those feelings either side of the pendulum have merit and some of them are even—nice?