10/23/2017 0 Comments
I am frustrated. I’ve been sitting here an hour and very little is working. I almost wrote nothing, but that would be untrue and I am focused on being truthful, tenacious and truthful.
Like a weasel, I'm holding on with my teeth clamped shut around the prey even if the prey is just a barrage of thoughts I’m pouring from my head to the page. Keep coming words, we have a shared space in our dance card. We’re in this marathon of life to be more than mediocre.
(Oh, I like that line. And that’s why I keep moving my fingers, pouring my words into a screen on a frustrating computer 3,000 miles from home because I’m tired of the alternative – not writing. I miss my home computer but I’m not home and I have an option – well, a couple.)
Tap on my iPad keyboard or my phone or type here – faster – or my notebook, workable and this, right now is the balm I need. None of the others will do and even if I can’t immediastely publish and share I must insist this is just right. This is unfathomably wonderful.
One more minute in my five.
I take my hands away from my face and I write.
I feel the tiredness filling my veins and I write anyway. What is my wondrous next?
I’ll settle for my sucky next, at least I am writing.
I think I’ll take a shower in the morning, finish packing my bag tonight and offer my whole self to sleep. Tomorrow I’ll be back to the keyboard I know and love and the rest of the world may or may not even care I wrote this: what matters is I do.
I care. I write. I love. I laugh. I cry. I make mistakes. I have victories. I dare to not understand what the heck I’m doing and knock on the cellar door of destiny after years. I’m not flirting anymore, I’m not hiding. I am serious. I’m not ready, but that concept of readiness no longer matters.
You're here. That’s what matters now. Let's Do This.
Let’s do this.