Gay Club Jet Lag

Last year I became afraid of my computer. It represented many things- my chronic online habits, the ability to research old flames and upcoming heartbreaks, the downfall of Twitter, but more importantly, it felt like a creative death sentence. The writer’s tango is always wrestling between the desire to write and actually doing it.

For me, the biggest source of writer’s block was the pressure I put on myself to make something “good” or “revolutionary” or something that would help me reach a career in writing. I felt like I had nothing substantial to say, but the worm in my brain desperately wanted me to put some part of myself into words.

The effort of surmounting these doubts becomes like the miner’s dilemma, a term I made up about that feeling in Minecraft when you just keep digging, desperate to find diamonds, with no luck. After feeling the frustration and disappointment of not producing something you’re pleased with you might wonder- why even bother? The idea of returning to the cave feels like the culturally misunderstood definition of insanity- to keep doing the same thing and expecting different results.

And yet, there is still the possibility that behind the next block of stone is the diamond ore you so desperately crave.

This is best represented visually by the following meme:

They’ve gotta be somewhere right? There’s no way to know for sure what we might find, but the fears that kept me from writing are best represented by this other meme, complementary to the one above:

(Please forgive the shitty graphic quality but you get the gist.)

One of the most jarring- and perhaps annoying- things about adulthood is that once you’re no longer in some kind of academic system, you’re in charge of choosing what you focus on. And even more frustrating is constantly concluding that there is no right answer because you can do whatever you want. And how the fuck am I supposed to know what I want?

This paralysis that sets in when I realize I am responsible for my future makes me feel like Azealia Banks, turning around in my imaginary bob and asking the universe- So. What Now?

Anytime I felt the impulse to write, I’d sit in front of my computer, blink twice, and shut it closed in favor of playing Mario Kart online. I wonder if the people behind the blank-faced Miis on the loading screen have dreams of their own. Are they taking a well-earned break from working hard to play three rounds before returning to their craft? Or are they like me, looking for instant gratification to allay the fears that come with creation? Maybe they’re unemployed. Maybe they don’t worry about trying to be an artist and simply go to their fuck ass job, come home and play Mario Kart, and forget about their need to be anything else than what they are.

In life, art, and Minecraft alike, there’s no guarantee that you’ll find diamonds in this cave to begin with. You might run into a ravine, a place full of potential, but even the deepest stretch of ores could be entirely devoid of these lucrative, possessive, obsessable diamonds.

Enter the devil’s advocate of positivity who in this metaphor may insist- “Well maybe you won’t find diamonds, but you could find something else instead!” No bitch, I want diamonds. A troll of optimism might suggest that even without knowing, one should still have faith and believe that the diamonds will be there. The wisest wizard will probably tell you not to dig for worldly things, singing in harmony with the hippies who will tell you to dig not for the outcome, but for the pleasure of it.

Who in this band of characters from Shrek are we supposed to believe? I don’t know because I happen to find all of these opinions annoying. Just because I hear positive or motivating viewpoints doesn’t mean I am miraculously transformed and will instantly change my habits.

After a while, it starts feeling like the answer to this is that it doesn’t matter because nothing matters. The conclusion is both hopeless and enlightened. Nothing matters (negative) but that also means that nothing matters (positive) but then if nothing matters (objective) then why bother to do anything? I once tweeted a version of this thought that my friend David found confusing, so if I need to break this down, then I will-

Let’s say nothing matters and life is pointless. At first, this may sound sad. After a while or perhaps a shift in perspective, it releases the burden of expectations. Without pressure, you can do anything you think of doing and in the end, there is no right answer. But if there’s no right answer for how to live life, then what should we be spending our time doing? Because ultimately we do have to spend our time on this earth doing something. Why not make it something valuable? But what is valuable if nothing matters? And then the cycle repeats itself like that stupid self-eating snake. See below:

If nothing matters, at what point do we find ourselves doing things just to do them? I’ve spent my whole life thinking that the whole point of being alive is to be “happy.” To quote the second coming of Christ herself-

HOST: “Miss 3rd Ward, your first question. What is your aspiration in life?”

BEYONCÉ: “Oh, my aspiration in life? That’s a great question. I wasn’t expecting that question… What is my aspiration in life? Um, well… My aspiration in life would be to be happy.”

Having just turned 23, up to this moment I’ve thought that everything I do in life should be bent towards reaching “happiness,” or my “dreams,” at least some sort of goal- and anything on the contrary is a waste of my potential. I’m coming to the conclusion that this is bullshit, and that’s why I’m here, finally breaking the dam and writing something.

I guess this is where the aha comes in, the cringe, the eye roll, the moment where my face cracks and my lips sweep to the side as I realize that the cast of Shrek may have had a point.

Maybe in anything we do, there are diamonds for those with eyes to see them. Since I’m not literally playing Minecraft or working in an actual mine and these diamonds are all in my head, they are an extended metaphor- that quite frankly, dear reader, I am getting sick of writing about, and maybe you are also tired of reading about it, but for the sake of wrapping this up I am going to have to use the word diamonds a few more time- so what are diamonds?

As an artist of any kind, it’s easy to get swept into the notion of glory, to hope that whatever you create could make life more meaningful. I used to strive for this, thinking that to be a true writer, I had to write something phenomenal, and anything not immediately perfect would deter me from my goal. I still do.

The only way to overcome this is to dig and realize that diamonds are not found in the perfect manuscript I so desperately crave to write, they are found in engaging in the act of creation to begin with. This piece is a diamond, and it is by no means perfect, but most diamonds have flaws, right? According to Google, “The vast majority of diamonds have imperfections.” But they’re still diamonds. If I wish to be a writer, then through the act of writing, I have succeeded.

I love to be long-winded, but this is also perhaps a symptom of me facing my writer’s block and throwing everything I can at it to write. So if you’ve stuck around this long, I would like to thank you. This is my way of explaining why I chose to write this, and why I will begin to post my writing. Not because I think it’s exceptional or because I have an ego problem, I just want to write. I don’t think I had to explain that to you, I think I had to explain that to myself. I will be doing that a lot. Hopefully, I’ll see you at the next one.

Until then, I hope you find diamonds in your cave. Or maybe you’ll find something else. Maybe you’ll find a bat. Bats are cool. For now, I am signing off. Please see the cultural references from today’s piece listed below, as well as a few other bits of media I think are related. Thanks a million.

Shine bright like a diamond bitch

-Eduardo

https://www.minecraft.net/en-ushttps://www.minecraft.net/en-us