I'm supposed to be 58% right brained so what the hell is up with all of the fucking writers block?  It's like trying to get water from a stone, words from my brain refuse to come out in any kind of literarily amuzing way.  If this hadn't been going on for more than two years now, I'd be impulsively worried but now I'm "In Real Life" worried that I've lost it.  And not just the writing part, but my entire creative capaticy seems to be the exact opposite: there is no capacity because there is no creativity.  Is it possible to be right brained your entire life and then jump to being more left brained?  Or is there really no ____ brained at all?  Like my brain is what it is and uses what it uses and doesn't favor one side to the other?

Fuck if I know and of course the ever-usefull, ever-disappointing internet is of no help.  I mean I'm sure the answer is somewhere in there but I don't have the patience nor commitment necessary to read through page after page of explaination that I really can't validate or trust.  Because who knows.  People are crazy and knowing me someone would write something like, "Cross Train Your Brain: Making the Best of Both Worlds" and I'd buy into it lock, stock, and barrel only to find that it was written by some nut in an asylum somewhere. 

There is a lot of helpful advice on removing writer's block but unfortunately a lot of it requires me to already have a subject in mind.  They also suggest reading.  Which is just great for the girl with the mind that latches onto ideas and refuses to let them go - even if they were thought up by someone else.  I suddenly find myself wanting to write a mystery because I just finished "Gone Girl" by Gillian Flynn.  So here I am, staring at the ever-present, always cliche blank sheet of paper (or Word doc) and I write the words:

"I didn't know what to do with myself.  I wasn't sure if I should run or pick up the phone." 

Great intro.  Fantastic.  Until I have to take it somewhere, and by somewhere I mean anywhere but where Gillian Flynn took her book.  It sucks because my mind rationalizes (maybe that's the wrong word) away ideas because "they've already been done".  I don't want to write another fucking Twilight or Gone Girl or Harry Potter or Running with Scissors.  As tempted as my mind is by these, I refuse to succomb to becoming a regurgitated version of my favorite authors.  Where is the authenticity?  Originiality?  If I'm always piggy-backing on someone else, I am a fraud.  A poser.  So how can I pull some wonderful idea that's worth writing about that will keep my attention long enough to finish it out of my ass?  Who the fuck knows! 

"I decided to run as fast as I could, out of the house and down the concrete steps onto the asphalt and forced my legs to pump until my lungs refused to breathe and my muscles threatened to pop.  I knelt on the cool grass, the blades of it irritating the skin of my knees.  I was covered in blood, from head to toe, just covered, but not drenched because I wasn't dripping.  I was just a red, scared, brethless version of myself sitting in the grass which I hated to do (I was allergic).  My mind wasn't racing to pull the events together or even humming along in some sort of psychotic hymnal to God.  No it was resolute."

I gotta get out of this place.  I can't stay a minute longer.