I didn’t write last night. I feel bad about that. I didn’t have anything to write about, or perhaps the words just weren’t there…. I’m having a similar challenge tonight. Lack of material, lack of focus, and think I might want to go out to listen to music. But I’m trying to establish a habit. Write every day. Even when the writing is crap. Even when there’s nothing to say.
When I was a child, I apparently once told an adult that I don’t talk when I don’t have anything to say (or something like that and probably in 3 -year-old phrasing). This haunts me. I hate the thought of just writing for the sake of writing, of just doing the stream of consciousness vomiting of words on the page/screen (see this and above paragraph).
I acknowledge that sometimes the vomit is prologue to something good – a warming up if you will, verbal stretching. Not sure that’s the case tonight.
The things I’m thinking about:
Last night a guy tapped me on the shoulder as he left the bar and said I have a wonderful smile. That was nice. A woman sat next to me and told me how comfortable she is being alone (had moved here for a relationship that didn’t work). She needs to say these things. She needs to believe them. I’ve confided in strangers in similar ways. My ex, B, once moved to Seattle for a relationship – did she force a happy face when that didn’t work? It’s partially why she insisted on being engaged before she would move in with me.
Tonight I got a tattoo – I picked the enso from 9/10/19. At the bottom of the page I had written you never know what tomorrow will bring. I think it was the day I gave notice at my job, one day after getting an offer from the Blues Foundation.
Earlier today I had a going away brunch with my mom, stepdad, and my brother’s family (or at least 3 of his 5 – niece and nephew are away at school). I’m gonna miss my people. My mom started to get choked up. She insisted we get together at least one more time before I leave. Neither my brother nor I have ever left home before (aside from college).
I’m trying to pack and get things done. Still need to line up movers, handle things like utilities. The checklist isn’t getting any smaller.
I sent a letter to B’s old address about a week ago. I’m nervous about how it will be received. Will it make it through mail forwarding? Will she read it? Will she acknowledge she got it? Will she flip out? I have no expectation that she ever comes around, but I would love to see her heart soften, to see her anger towards me disappear. Sending it has caused some anxiety for me. I didn’t say anything out of the ordinary – I told her I still love her, I told her I have a far better understanding of the loss she felt and the emotional rawness she experienced.
So much verbal vomit. I’ll clean it up tomorrow.