Monday, July 25, 2011

Get on with it

To just start writing and see where it goes. Seems like crazy talk for someone whose mind swims with ideas and sentences and ... dare I say it? Desire? The desire to write, stifled for far too long, seeps into my dreams and my thoughts, continually, bothering me with the of course, undone.

Rusty. My fingers, my ideas, my ... flow. Rusty in how to get the thoughts down, no, not even that. Rusty in what thoughts? What ideas? Was this ever easy?

Keep thinking I need a schedule. I need to schedule the time, and then steal what I can. Feels an impossible task and so I put it off. Like in an interview, what is your fault? The fake answer, I'm a perfectionist...don't like to delegate control, sometimes don't finish things...the real answer? Afraid of failure, perhaps? So close, before, to accomplishing. Life got in the way a bit, the way I imagine cancer or death or catastrophic failure does.

That was helpful; that bit of regurgitating above. Perhaps to let it out, the hurt and disappointment, will allow the freedom to go forward? Perhaps, as there are tears in my eyes and a welling in my chest. Perhaps to acknowledge that some was my fault and some not; that things happen and that that is life, and to say it's okay. I'm on no one's schedule but my own. And I can be sorry and be sad that it hasn't moved at warp speed. Or I can say, okay, too bad, now get on with it.

Now get on with it.

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