I'm Not As Crazy as I Feared...

Sitting alone... it requires courage. I have no book, no pad, no phone. Just luke warm coffee, a piece of unlined paper and an hour to kill. How to fill it? I'm trying to resist the urge to think that the room is staring at me. Nobody cares! No one truly gives a crap if I flick my hair or stare at the wall for 57, 56 minutes. No more than I care that they came equipped with comrades to chat with or gadgets to beep upon. I have only this pen and this paper, at this table by myself...

A goal to fill every inch of this white space has taken hold: I have a purpose! My script is MINUSCULE, resembling the psychotic journals of social deviants on so many horror films. Would a detective look upon this rambling as proof of some crime I never committed? Shit, I swear, I'm NOT a nutcase; I'm just bored.

All of these conversations in my head are phrased as blog posts... Before blogging, I could have an argument or "deep thought" without feeling the pressing need to record it online. Now, I get panicky at all of the well-versed conversations that would make "great blog posts" that I lose to the recesses of my mind, simply because I have no method of retaining them. Oh my lord, if only I had a "smarty-pants-phone!" How lovely the world might be! To grace you all with the internal discussions I host while in my bath tub... Topics such as the meaning of life and the futility of the modern man (original, I know). Why DO we strive to build with plastic and wires? Words in a non-space such as the Internet: Do they really exist? Without a hard copy for posterity, what happens to the ground-breaking and highly-original arrangements of words I construct?

Halfway through this page and my hand is cramping! My knuckles ache to be cracked. How did I ever survive the essays and perpetual note-taking of my school years? It's amazing to me that I never wrote a paper on the computer. All of my work was first written in long-hand! Even my journals to my babies are in script. Until I began blogging, they were quite regularly updated. How long since my last entries? Fabulous; another item for my "to do" list. Not that I can complain; most of my "to do's" are voluntary. I mean, no one's holding me accountable for the order of my home or the constancy of letters to my kids. I recognize just how lucky I am at this point in my life. To have the flexibility to take a long bath in the afternoon while my children read books and play Starfall.com is a luxury most Americans (shoot, most HUMANS) will never have. I embrace this stage and promise to treasure it for as long as it lasts. I'm not naive enough to believe that this WILL last; Nothing lasts. Only change is constant. One must climb the ladder to play on the jungle gym, right? And we all have to eventually slide down... But it sure is nice, climbing this ladder, pausing on this rung, enjoying the view and feeling the joy of the wind on my face...