this thing

drip drop

I haven’t found the voice that will allow me to craft a story in a way that I would feel compelling. Maybe it’s not really in my wheelhouse. Right now I scribble down this and that from the place that I know best. It’s not that I’m not interested in the world around me, on the contrary. I want to know everything, but what I’ve discovered about myself is that I’m not wired that way. I’m a generalist. I am knowledgeable around many subjects and continually seek to know more about any variety of topics that cross my path and pique my interest; constantly curious. You could view my assertion as a self serving excuse or something more but I am an intensely private person and engaging in this bloodletting is uncomfortable, as much as it is cathartic for me to set it down.  I apologize for this if you don’t really give a crap, but just pass it by if that is the case because I don’t give a crap either. This is my process, and yes this is a public forum, but I’m working on something here.

9.11.2015

I just about tripped on the magic screen on my balcony doors to get inside from outside to write this. It is not going to be a masterpiece. Let’s just not bother with that. Let’s just get some words down shall we. This is not going to be a draft like the 30 some odd I already have in my posts list. I’m actually going to post this. No, I really am. I promise. I found myself zoomed to someone’s tumbler blog via a link noticed the pictures weren’t perfect and the words were few and somehow that spurred me to get indoors and write this. Because it’s not in the perfection it’s about the doing. It might be something for me to remember when I stall and tumble.

I’ve got my fan pointed indoors, though I have no idea why. I can’t feel it all the way over here where my big girl computer is. I need it blowing on my face. It’s going on noon and I’m sweating; not glowing, just plain ol’ ordinary sweating. The day has been clear blue since…well yesterday and the day before. The temperature feels relatively very warm compared to the temperatures of latelyand so the sweat. In a fit of efficiency last week when the weather was a little more on the miserable side I packed away all my summer clothing because it looked like summer was in the rear view. Right now, I’m debating pulling it all out again and while I’m at it getting all my hair cut off when I go to see my girl today. It’s a pathetic mop anyway unless I blowdry and spray it into submission. I digress.

I’m not going to bother so much with those unfinished drafts that somehow haunt me, but move ahead with fresh thoughts and fresh eyes. Some of that drivel is not worth saving anyway. It’s dreary and depressed, much like I can be a good deal of the time. On this particular day I am motivated to create some sort of progress without beating myself over the head about what I haven’t done or finished or attempted. Now’s not the time for that.

Just thought I’d throw that out there, just because.

diving in

i choose a word from a list that has two meanings and write until i get to the bottom of the page. it doesn’t have to make sense says the book if i get stuck repeat what i have written….for the purposes of this exercise i’ll go until i’ve hit a couple chunky paragraphs. if i was writing by hand i would probably hit the bottom of page in that amount of time easily. those are my rules. from this strange and odd list i choose desert. it struck me first so that’s what i choose. here goes:

desert from the heart away from everything that i know stranded and i stand there anyway unable to move or say anything. i turn and view the world around me taste the sand in my mouth, feel it on my skin and wonder about the people who have stood before me in this same predicament with thought similar to mine. or were they similar? did they fret and worry about how to get home? did they care at all about the lack of food water and people in this place they found themselves or did they just enjoy the sensation of it all like i was?

i could only wonder as i stood there with the heat of the sun on my face abandoned and deserted angry and sad all at once but it had been my doing to begin with and so i filled with a joy that transcended me beyond the heat the grit the discomfort and everything that bound me to the earth as i knew it. i felt free. as if i were the only person left on earth and i could move forward with a world of my own making on my own terms in my own world in my desert and oasis an orinoco flow. happiness. a new beginning. it was an eden not a sunbaked, desolate place. filled with joy and wonder i ran and ran until i couldn’t catch my breath and sun filled my nostrils. i was alone at last, something i had never wanted had feared and reviled had railed against in my youth. that abandonment that desertion and now i embraced it and ran forward into my future.

it was a future i couldn’t see and for the first time i was filled with elation and not worry as i always had before in the desert of the heart and mind and desert it was for me and all that i could be forever. does ths sound like a romance novel or something i dont care i was never the heroine with her bodice ripped on the cover and i was ok with that afterall now i have my desert and it is my own for me and only me i didn’t have to play to the hand and the supposed power of someone who would swoop in and save me from a predicament that was probably of his making i could just be as fast or as slow as i wish without a care in the world or at least for the time being until the obvious situations came into play. where would i get water or food for surely at some point in the future soon i would find myself needing both and a place to lay my head and i know from stories i’ve read and things i’ve watched on tv that it gets cold at night and all i had was the thin clothes i had when i found myself here and shelter what would i do for that after all i was all alone and what i had to get i had to do it on my own without the aid of anyone else. i was in the desert in the middle of nowhere in the desert deserted left to my own devices. and now i had to consider the possibilities of the realities but i let them go anyway i refused to return to that just yet i was in my desert alone and left to my own to be my own and that was ok i could live with that for now for now in the desert.

ok. that’s the end of my page. a few paragraphs disappearing out of view.  how do i score this against tomorrow? leave that until tomorrow comes….i reread the blurb and the one thing i did and it’s a bad habit of mine is that i hold my breath, sometimes for a incredibly long time. i don’t feel the strain of it, i simply note it and take a breath when i do notice. i think it goes back to my swimming days when we would play games of who could hold their breath the longest. i almost never won, but i still do it, as if breathing is a voluntary action and i can control whether i take my next breath or not. that definitely does go back to my childhood days when i yearned to exit planet earth. a strange fallacy of thought but it does occur to me anyway.

 

p.s. nice pic huh? took it with my phone, not the best quality. perhaps i will aim for something a little more photogenic to go with the blog. i want to add an image that is as spontaneous as the writing is meant to be during this exercise.