The rest of November I will write a daily entry. No matter how boring. No matter how pointless, or uninteresting. I will tell my story. Daily. This is important.
When it strikes you. Write it.
So I learned my lesson. It is the next day, the next morning in fact, and I am awakened by mistake. I had forgotten to make an entry... on what was only the second day of my challenge! It's laughable, and yet a bit sad-- I guess I will forget about the fact that I am trying to make a new habit, I guess that it is normal to have an adjustment period, to get in the flow of some new routine. So I will give myself a break, I guess.... back to the lesson I learned though.... When it strikes you, write it. It had struck. I was just inside the door from the drive home from work. I had hung up my bag and jacket and gone into the kitchen to find something to graze on within the pantry. It was then, upon opening the pantry door, that it struck. It was a beautiful line. One single line. An opening line. And it was then- my job was only to grab my laptop, and write the line... follow it to its end. Writing is innately within me. Beautiful thoughts (at least I think that they are beautifully sculpted) come to me with ease, and most times I just ponder them in brain-space. Yes, most times I allow them to float around me yet not aimlessly, but with sync and rhythm. Beautifully and poetically spoken. Never captured in time, on paper, on screen. Never then to be remembered, or studied, re referred to at a later point in life. But this is why I have made this challenge for myself, this is why I type now, at 5:44 am 24-hrs late for my second entry, hiding in the bathroom as to keep quiet enough not to wake my family, on the toilet seat awkwardly positioned (and because of such a awkward positioning, I am in hip pain no less) with my laptop, to capture this moment in thought before it evaporates. All the wiser, however, because I have identified something great about myself. And for every next time I will know what it feels like to be struck, and my only response will be to rise toward finding my laptop or a pen. My only response will be to write.
The Discipline To Write.
I went to work today. I opened the store as per usual for me the past month and a half now. Guy-M came in an hour behind me. It was good for him to be there. Though it caused bumps in the road of convenience within the routine I had begun to follow, it was still pleasant to be in the store with someone else rather than my being there alone. On top of the fact that, with hesitance to admit this truth, it has become bore-some to force dialogue with the shipment guy, Hugo. He, a nice enough person... sweet even, and his life... interesting enough, it is just I feel I know everything there is to know about him now after chatting every morning for the past 2 months. The rest I assume, he will naturally withhold just as any normal person would-- as there is usually limited preview of personal life & intimacies that we give to those we may see daily, but who are practically still strangers. Speaking of strangers, Guy-M is very much still a stranger to me, yet somehow I felt comfortable around him today to have a semi melt down in front of him. Who then, very mannerly, asked me to belt it all to his accommodating shoulder and listening ear. I hesitated, but not for long... and spilled what I was not sure had been in fact the problem this morning. "I feel stressed, and behind. Like time has called my number and I have nothing prepared" You see early this morning I was given a reminder of an engagement I am due to sing at with my family, and I... am unprepared! Stressed now. Under pressure now. Angry at myself for forgetting. For remembering that I had forgotten, and surprised (and peeved at father time) for how quickly the 20th of November came approaching... how much faster will Christmas arrive? And how unprepared will I be when the caller calls? And little ole me, has yet again, over-promised to throw a baby shower (in December no less), to catch up on late bills (by December), and make Christmas fly off with a bang! Is it all possible? So little time. So little money. So little.... So little... Such a big heart, and it seems to always stay broken. Either I torture myself by demanding I thrive under such heavy weighted pressure, or I expect to manage such heavy weighted pressure with ease. Neither of these seem healthy, or fair. Still.... I am stressed and stretched to the max.... today.
random scribblings to come....!