This morning I sat at the coffee shop by my work and wrote longhand
on loose leaf paper. I was pleased with my burst of creativity and
pleased that people from my work looked happy to see me when they came
in to get their coffee. They asked me, "Are you working today?" and I
cheerfully answered, "No." I derived strange pleasure from being so
close to my work and not working, as if I were taunting my job with my
day off. Ha ha! (Sticks thumbs in ears and wiggles fingers in a
childish, taunting gesture.)
Even with people talking to me, I somehow managed to get lost in my own story. I'd stop my pen every few paragraphs to think, "This is good." I liked the feeling of focusing my attention on a scene that didn't involve me, and then every so often coming back to reality to give myself an affirming thumbs up.
I haven't created anything significant for a while, just excuses for not writing and a little bit of Christmas family drama over home movies.
Christmas marked the first time I saw footage of me as a baby sinking into a pool of colorful balls: a truly sad and pitiful sight. The only adult supervisor was the person quietly filming and no effort was made to rescue me. Another scene showed me, maybe a year old, on my hands and knees being told to woof while my big brother shoved bread crumbs into my mouth. At least I hope they were bread crumbs and not dog treats.
But that's all over now and it's 2015. My writing helped me realize that I am a woman of infinite soul and substance. I started 2015 with my soy latte and that West Side Story feeling of "Something's Coming."This will be a good year. I will walk across pools of colorful balls without sinking and do all kinds of other wonderful things.
Even with people talking to me, I somehow managed to get lost in my own story. I'd stop my pen every few paragraphs to think, "This is good." I liked the feeling of focusing my attention on a scene that didn't involve me, and then every so often coming back to reality to give myself an affirming thumbs up.
I haven't created anything significant for a while, just excuses for not writing and a little bit of Christmas family drama over home movies.
Christmas marked the first time I saw footage of me as a baby sinking into a pool of colorful balls: a truly sad and pitiful sight. The only adult supervisor was the person quietly filming and no effort was made to rescue me. Another scene showed me, maybe a year old, on my hands and knees being told to woof while my big brother shoved bread crumbs into my mouth. At least I hope they were bread crumbs and not dog treats.
But that's all over now and it's 2015. My writing helped me realize that I am a woman of infinite soul and substance. I started 2015 with my soy latte and that West Side Story feeling of "Something's Coming."This will be a good year. I will walk across pools of colorful balls without sinking and do all kinds of other wonderful things.
No comments:
Post a Comment