There’s really not much to read here.
But, wait, don’t go yet!
It’s just that I can’t write. Yep! This week and last week, actually.
Yeah…well… my hands are sore, my computer is slow and now my ergonomically correct wireless keyboard and mouse aren’t working. Yes, I did change the batteries.
But that’s not why.
It’s my brain.
It won’t work – The smart and funny parts, well, they’re all dumbed down, and my whole brain seems to be stuck in Grade 3 – still while in perpetual motion – wild – whippin’ around like a water hose without a Master. With no trajectory in mind.
It’s probably because recently my days look like this:
I’ve been bouncing from one thing to the other, back and forth, over and out, ’til I’m wound up so tight I’m like a Toy Top spinning uncontrollably on a lazy-Susan rapidly turning while resting atop a rolling piece of furniture.
I think I’ve flipped a switch or short circuited or busted a synapse or something! It’s kinda making me dizzy! Batshit crazy, actually.
So, I finally made a decision. This morning I would only write. Yes. I’ll dedicate the morning to writing – should be easy sleezy.
I shut down the Tweeter, minimized the Facebooker, set down my text machine at an unreachable distance, promised myself not to google, and tucked my To Do List deep down into a dresser drawer where it would hang out with my panties for the day.
This morning I wake up at 4:30 am. I figure this gives me plenty of quiet time to write. I’ll get a lot done.
Well… it is Quiet… minus the Garbage Truck plus two Sirens that bully the neighbors and screech through the streets between the hours of 5 and 6.
Regardless, here I sit. I delete a story, hardly start another story, delete 100 words from that last story, edit another story. I barely write anything new.
I microwave my coffee four times and make two trips to the peanut butter jar. Plus one more after remembering I need to put it away. I open and close the fridge 5 times, not without taking two large swigs of the cranberry juice two of those times. The other three times I just look. I gaze as the sun rises. I stare as the traffic begins. I think. I ponder.
At the same time, it takes all my will and guts to hold me back from opening the Twitter, Instagram, Facebook… or mosey on over to the text machine to play with Snapchat or see if there are any texts from boys.
I don’t do any of that.
As I finally hunker down to create that “what my day looks like” graphic that sits at the beginning of this story, I’m remembering that “learning how to create cool graphics” is on the top of my To Do List, however not without competing with at least 10 other tasks that are of equal priority. Each of which cannot be knocked out in a single day.
This makes me a little more stressed, which reminds me of a second thing: It’s too early for wine.
Yet, I still manage to finish the graphic and…
…then I write…
However, not to worry, because, suddenly, my discouragement is slighted by what may be a brilliant idea.
I write this:
IT WAS THE BEST OF TIMES. IT WAS THE WORST OF TIMES.
Seriously, I do!
I know I stole it. But at the very least my brilliant idea is that this will jump start me.
I stare at it for 5 minutes. I scrap that too!
I got NOTHING!
So I pace with my special blankie around me.
I stare at the computer screen.
I lie on my back staring up at the ceiling.
More staring at the computer screen.
Shavasana with deep breaths.
A 10 minute shower accompanied with a good nail-biting session…
So, now here I sit contemplating how to conclude this short journal of my inadequate state of being, and I can tell you quite honestly I got…
Ciao for now,