That’s right. Inspiration is as much as an excuse as being drunk.

“I would have never grabbed your boob if I wasnt drunk. (I would have thought about it for sure!)”

“I would have spent a couple of hours writing, but I wasnt inspired.”

bleh.

Writers write.

Thats it. Fear is a driver of excuses. You dont write (or do whatever) because you fear the outcome. Or the lack of an outcome. Or the quality of the work. Or the reaction to the work.

But inspiration doesnt do the writing, or excuse the lack of it.

Writes write.

I am learning that I might actually be a writer. Maybe not a great one. I wont turn a phrase or describe a situation, or formulate characters with the same verve or expertise of the great writers. But, I do write.

For the past couple of days, I havent written as much as I would as like.

But, writers write.

I said I was waiting for inspiration. But, that was a lie. I just was afraid that what I was writing wasnt very good. So, I was uninspired.

Today, I decided that I would get back to it. I started Tweeting a little. It’s a like a rapid fire warmup. Drop a couple of thoughts in 140 characters. Got some feedback; a little interaction. The more I tweeted, the more thoughts came through my head.

Then I opened up this blog, and started writing this post. It started slowly. It was hard to go, but now, my words, thoughts and fingers seem to be moving at the right pace. I cant wait to finish this post so I can get back to my book.

But, every thought should be complete, so I write this to completion.

Writers write. Its what we do.

E.L. Doctrow, one of my favorite authors, (take a moment to read The Book of Daniel), has a couple of quotes about writing (he is also an accomplished professor):

Writing a novel is like driving a car at night. You can see only as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.

and

Good writing is supposed to evoke sensation in the reader—not the fact that it is raining, but the feeling of being rained upon.

Of course, my favorite American writer, Mark Twain adds:

Keep away from people who try to belittle your ambitions. Small people always do that, but the really great make you feel that you, too, can become great.

Even when that person is you.

Writers write. Leave the inspiration for those that need it.

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Yesterday I wrote a quick post to say that I wanted to write, but I wasnt interested in writing anything, so I left a picture of a puppy (not mine.)

I also left a link to a recent at home drug test I took.

My friend Louis Gray asked me why I took the test.

Seems like an easy one.

Most of the folks that know me, or have spoken to me, know of my past. I had a lot of fun for a long time. During that time, the thing that scared me the most was ending up in jail. Not dying, at times that was the hopeful outcome, but the embarrassment of ending up in jail.

Could you imagine what my mom would say? What my sisters would think? The lack of respect my dad would have for me?

Almost as bad as jail would have been failing a drug test. First off, I dont fail. Anything. Any time. Ever.

Second, there was no way that I would ever take one. I mean, c’mon. I doubt they had the test that would cover everything I was taking at the time…

But, its almost more than that. When I was a senior at Independence High School, I was asked to apply to an internship at IBM. At the time, IBM was still a major employer in San Jose, and they were selecting one senior from all the high schools in the area.

I wasnt an amazing student (I did well), I didnt do a million extra cirricular activities (I did captain the swim team), and I certainly was no less of a smartass than I am now. There was no way in hell I would get the internship.

And, as expected, I didnt. I decided I would go back to the job I held since I was 14 years old, and be a lifeguard and swim instructor.

Of course, since I wasnt planning on joining any sports teams in college (which turned out to be not correct, given I played 4 years of lacrosse at UC Davis), I began to drink and smoke weed. A LOT OF WEED. Like Cheech and Chong amounts. I sold a little (not much to be anything to talk about), and in case I didnt mention, smoked all day every day.

I still remember the first time I got drunk. I had gone to a party with my friend Christine, and someone handed me a 7-11 Big Gulp. I took a sip. It tasted horrible.

“Its beer.”

I wasnt convinced.

“No, thats how beer tastes.”

I allowed myself to be convinced that a mixture of ice, Bacardi 151 and beer was beer. So I drank the entire 32 oz of this concoction.

That night is still pretty blurry. I do know that I licked everyone’s hand before leaving. I do know that I got home lied down in my bed and began to wonder why the WHOLE FUCKING WORLD WAS SPINNING!

Needless to say, the rest of the night was filled with my face in my toilet singing the Puking Song.

My mom told me years later that when she heard me, her first reaction was “My Baby!” to which my dad replied “He’s drunk,” and rolled over and went back to sleep.

After that, it was almost two weeks before I could drink again.

Why does that story matter? Well, as the school year ended, I got a call from IBM. The person they had selected decided to drop out of the internship program. It turned out to be a great program:

• IBM would pay me $300/week;
• I would work there through out the summer;
• If I kept my grades up at college, they would give me a job every summer;
• I had a guaranteed job once I graduated.

It also turned out that I was #2 on the list. The only hurdle was that I had to take a drug test.

I convinced myself I had made a commitment to the swimming pool, and didnt want a “corporate” job. I convinced myself that it was my senior year, and I just wanted to have a fun job for the summer before heading to college. I convinced myself that it would be a horrible experience to work at IBM.

I never said it was because I was afraid of taking a drug test. Of disappointing my parents when I failed the drug test. Of disappointing myself when I fail. After all, I am Micah Gabriel Baldwin. I dont fail. Ever.

So, the other day when I walked into the pharmacy to get my bipolar prescription filled, I saw this row of at-home drug tests. And for the first time in my life, I knew that the results could be nothing but positive (I mean negative.) I bought one.

I took it home. I took pictures of my piss in a cup. (Or if you like, my urine in a receptacle.). I took pictures of the negative result. Then posted them on Flickr, and tweeted about it. (BTW: The reference to @tylerwillis was that I explained that I had tried everything to lose followers in droves. Pictures of my piss? Gained 5. Is there nothing I can say? Nothing I can do?)

Beyond the humor of it, for the first time, I was really proud to have a non-positive result. To know that it would return clean, which stands as a symbol of a new direction in my life.

That when presented with two choices; my decision is always to make the right choice rather than the fun choice.

I wonder if IBM still has that internship open?

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Image by Brian Hathcock via Flickr

I really wanted to blog tonight. It feels like I should. But, I am drawing a complete blank. There is nothing that currently interests me enough to blog about it. Nothing.

Instead, I give you the above picture. It is only bested by UpsideDownDogs.

Just be happy I am not posting pictures of my recent drug test.

Peace out bitches.