Sometimes writing is so easy, it's scary. It flows out of the eyes, the ears, the very pores. You can't seem to stop it up. And sometimes, I'm reminded of having to take certain medications to get the "natural occurrences" of the bodily functions--well--occurring naturally. I've been stopped up for some time now. Writing didn't seem to be something I wanted to do. I would see the icon for my blog and think, "yeah, I'll get to that." But I didn't really want to. It's hard to believe I would ever feel that way, writing feels like a part of my inner self. But there you have it.
The urge is here today, again, for whatever reason. The words are coming out and pouring across the page willy-nilly. I'm spelling things wrong, which usually indicates that I'm concentrating on getting the words down as opposed to correctly. This is also an indication that writing is flowing again. Because when you're in the "zone" you don't care so much that it's spelled right, just that it's there, on the page, well, on the computer, those little black marks filling up the white space.
I think what started the flow today was a series of unrelated events. I woke up at 5--an ungodly hour for me. I sleep as late as I can each day--I just dislike mornings so much, at first. And now, especially, when it's dark out and the crickets don't get how it's almost morning, and the guy delivering the newspaper stops outside at the curb with his radio blasting, I mean, I just wished mornings started later. So I popped out of bed at five, and was downstairs getting ready for work a whole hour earlier than usual. Then in work, although I like to believe I'm somewhat efficient, I was super-efficient. I was on top of phone calls, on top of emails, filing, writing notes, calling and following up. My office mate got caught up in a myriad of dramas that fortunately didn't have anything to do with me! A good day all around. I virtuously walked back to work after going home for lunch, then took the long way home instead of just taking the most direct route. Since stopping the gym, this was a very good thing for me to do. Later, after dinner, my Mom called. She shared some really depressing news, then tried to work around the fact that this was really the only reason she called, to share this bit of morose-ness. I didn't blame her for telling me. But I know how she thinks and I'm sure she felt guilty and tried to make believe she really just wanted to know how my day was. I knew better and so did she. We do this dance frequently, she pretending there are other reasons for calling besides sharing bad, scary or depressing news. It's fine actually that she does this. She keeps in touch with far more people than I do and I would never know half this stuff if she didn't call me. But at the end of the day, it was just a quirky thing, ya know?
So I will be going to bed soon; hopefully to sleep until at least six. I'll probably be more sluggish at work tomorrow and not quite on top of the world. There is a meeting I'm half not wanting to go to tomorrow night which will cap off whatever tomorrow brings. And such is life.
We are full of ups and downs. Highs and lows. We rest our weary heads on our pillows at night, hoping that tomorrow when we wake up (if we wake up--now there's a depressing thought), we will go through the new day meeting whatever challenges we face either by boldly facing them or running away and hiding in our cubicles. And on the days when I want to write, I do. And on the days I don't or can't or need some medicine to help me out, well, then, I write then, too, but not always.
No comments:
Post a Comment