Summer Resolution

Note: I actually wrote this two nights ago, but my internet was being screwy, so I couldn't post right away.

I’m really not very good at this. For someone who claims to be a writer, I don’t do a very good job at putting out material for you people to read. (You've heard this before...) And for as boring as my life sometimes seems to me, I have done so much since my last post. I’ve seen a few movies, read a book, made some new friends. Taken an extensive, midwestern road trip, gotten pulled over and undergone several sobriety tests. I underwent an arduous decision-making process as far as my grad school choices; I decided on where to attend grad school in the fall! (Ball State University in Muncie, Indiana for my Master’s in English: Creative Writing!) I’ve made some more new friends… I’ve gotten closer to my brothers. I’ve found a kindred spirit in a 2 ½ year old. I’ve dogsat two dogs. I’ve been to two amazing concerts in the last week—the Fleet Foxes last Wednesday night and Josh Groban last night. I gave my number out at a bar for the first time.

(I just realized I made myself a handy little list of things I MUST write about. Even if you lovely people do not see all of it, some hardcore writing needs to happen. That was the purpose of this blasted blog in the first place. This shall be my summer resolution.)

In the meantime, I’ll write about the moon, because it was the moon tonight that made me stop in my tracks and just…enjoy. And as soon as I was done enjoying, I thought to myself, I want to try and write about this. I say, “try” because there is really no way I can convey just how amazing the night sky looked when I came home tonight. But like I said, I’ll try.

I got out of my car and realized my street was unusually bright. After a few seconds reflection, I realized all that light wasn’t coming from the dim street lamp on our corner, but from the sky. I looked up and was awed by the huge, perfect white orb surrounded by a patchwork of dark, cottony clouds. The moon had found an imperfect hole in the thick cloud cover, but the clouds moved so that the bright sphere was obstructed now and then by grey wisps. Aside from how incredible the sky looked, the night was unusually cool for mid May in Texas, and there was a delicious breeze blowing. The moment and the way it felt physically was just too wonderful for me to ignore and just walk inside my house, so I stood and leaned on my car for several minutes, just watching the clouds and the moon. Eventually I became aware of the odd sensation that someone was watching me. I looked toward our front door to see if someone was there. Then I looked across the street and was startled by a pair of small, glowing eyes. A neighbor’s cat was camped on the curb and watching me. I was startled out my lunar reverie and decided that maybe I should take this as a sign to go inside. By the time I reached the front stoop, the cat was already gone.

My sister shared this blog with me today and I laughed out loud. I'm passing the gift on.

http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2010/04/alot-is-better-than-you-at-everything.html

the relief of inspiration

I hate admitting this to myself, and indeed to the world. Or at least to the handful of people who read this whenever I post a link to my blog on facebook...
I love writing. It's what I want to go to grad school for in the fall. It's what I want to do with my life, even if I'm not at all sure how that will play out.
My problem is that for as much as I love writing, when I have free time, I very seldom feel like sitting down and writing. Heck, I have thank you notes that I keep forgetting about. I really don't know if my problem is lack of motivation or inspiration or if I'm just plain lazy. I do know that a writer is supposed to want to write all the time. We're supposed to love being alone, and recording and emoting. Unfortunately, I have just never been this way.

I miss having classes and classmates to inspire and motivate me. I miss having an impetus to write. I hate that I seem to need it, but without it I have not had that push. Well, I had a moment last night where that changed and it was just plain exciting.

After work last night, a few friends and I stuck around to watch Tangled. Afterward, my friend Flo and I drove around and talked and listened to some Mumford and Sons, a group of extraordinary gentlemen who never fail to inspire. I don't know if it was the balmy night, the music or the camaraderie, but approximately a quarter into my drive home, I was seized with a physical urge to write. My fingers literally both ached and itched to move pen across paper. Words and phrases streamed into my head and I couldn't remember them fast enough. At first, I thought maybe I'd just try to remember it well enough until I got home and quickly write it down there. But I was afraid I wouldn't get everything. Sometimes when I have sudden bursts of inspiration or if I hear someone say something that I find interesting, I save it in my phone as a draft for a text message. However, in this case, I just didn't think that would be sufficient. So I plunged my hand into my purse on the seat next to me, my fingers searched wildly for a pen. I found one quickly, and I grabbed an old Sonic receipt from the floor. I decided I'd park somewhere for a moment and write everything down. I pulled into an empty Whataburger parking lot and parked beneath a dim streetlight. And while it was fairly short, I scribbled out several lines of a poem. I breathed out a long breath when it was done; I felt a sort of physical relief and just sat for a minute or two, listening to the distant drone of the cd playing. Finally, I started my car and headed home.