Monday, May 18, 2009

the lost art of being me

so much in my life has changed since december of 2006. i'm not really sure where to start. artistically, let's just say that i've been a bit, ahem, stunted. not that i haven't been writing. i have been writing. secretly writing. voraciously lapping at words like a baby licking candy. soul-wrenchingly tearing at my heart for meaning in letters that make words that make no sense anymore. pain is pain. sex is sex. what more is there to say. in meetings i write little sentences. i listen to phrases, colloquialisms, bullshitty "think outside the box"isms ad nauseum. i am doodling thoughts on the pieces of junk mail i haven't chucked yet---during telephone conversations: "jess you must be multi-tasking" and the oft reply "oh yeah, sorry, call you back?"

driven to distraction. how much more distraction can any of us take, i wonder?

i plunk my long day at work, huge commute, tired self down on the couch to watch a movie or whatever looks good, diva bitch cat in lap, only to flip channels, move cat out of way to replace with MacBook, only to flip channels some more, be interrupted by wine-swilling roommate who offers me a glass in one of my prized, and therefore never used, glasses in the cupboard above the everyday stuff. but, as he says, "what if you died tomorrow? would you be glad you didn't use these?" the point is well taken. what if indeed. yet, what's the point of drinking cheap wine from expensive glasses? does it elevate the crap somehow? doubtful.

no movie gets watched. no writing gets done. the cat gets a few stairmaster-like presses into my now braless, malleable chest, ouch man, get off me, leaving behind a white clump of fur almost as large as the cat herself. someone texts me about the magic game "come meet me?" someone else calls, i press ignore. the channels get flipped. the cat steps on the MacBook pressing keys that lead me to another page i don't want, don't need. not that i need....any of it really.

so what do i need?

something real.

that's what i need.

something that doesn't involve a television, a computer or a cell phone. something that doesn't ring or chirp or make any sort of mechanical sound. something that lives, breathes and has feelings, too.

i've got some stories to tell. finally. they're brewing up there in my little blonde head. like i said a few years ago on this very page, stay tuned, friends. there are things to report.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

and so it begins

what i'm thinking

My photo
writing is like putting puzzles together. except i hate puzzles. they remind me of rainy days in the poconos, locked indoors with relatives for some kind of annual family reunion. but words, strung together, placed just so, can be just like music. i love words, their meaning, their rhythm, their ability to persuade, move, thrill---and when strategically placed together, they're just like pieces of a puzzle. Because when the piece is complete, it just is. There's nothing left to do except go outside and feel the rain come down.