The Next Day


It’s officially the day after Christmas, so I can officially begin writing this, whatever this is. You see, I sit here, at my desk, like most writers, though not with a laptop like so many I see finding their muse at their local Starcrack cafe. I’ll see something. It might not phase me immediately, or it might actually, but if it doesn’t, it’ll stew. For a long time, in the back shelf of my brain, right beside that orange I’ve been meaning to eat, it’ll sit there –the whatever it is I’m ignoring for the pleasing moment of the something else I’m doing at that particular time. It’ll sit there minding its own business, being completely neglected, and probably collecting dust, and counting the particles, 1, 2, 3 and so on.

I’ll roll my eyes as I often do at myself, and sigh heavily. For I have ignored it far too long, and the guilt won’t dramatically ravage me, per se, but tickle me, like a single strand of hair that balances precariously atop my cheek; it’s so close I can’t see it. So, whatever that something is, ever so small it might, and very likely, be, talks to me like the piercing tone of a dog whistle that no one else can hear. I’m deaf; I’m deaf from the niggling. I’m deaf from the dust collection –okay, that last grasp at description –blatantly paltry, but you get the idea.

I’m no green thumb when it comes to plants, so the same might be true of those well-ignored ideas, like the one beside the orange. Sometimes the oddball ones just ignite my will to sit and write, and I may not write at all about what had so encouraged me to take pen to paper or go straight to the keyboard. Like tonight, for example, I’m on a tangent different from what had inspired me a short while ago, but that’s okay. I don’t have to dive into the grammatical diatribe of erroneous English that I have yet again stumbled upon, and by chance it was by using StumbleUpon, of a title of a seemingly already published book (which I’ll have to check as the website was about cool product designs –noodles organized like the Empire State Building; okay, I’d buy that.). So, I had initially intended to discuss the punctuation confusion of that book title, and I suppose now I’ve just written myself into that one for another day, and instead you’re reading about how I ignore some ideas and springboard onto other ones, and how this post’s only excuse for existing is that it’s now the day after Christmas. It’s as good an excuse as any. I’ll go peel that orange now.


4 thoughts on “The Next Day

  1. It’s not avoidance, nor procrastination but fear, truthfully. I know because I suffer from it myself…hence my inability to write myself at the moment. Look at it this way, if it helps: Your muse (sic) is on vacation, you just need to call it home for a while. Sometimes it doesn’t know that it is needed.

    • That muse thing –it keeps on moving like that millisecond of our life in the future. Yes, it can be fear, and it used to be more that for me until I read something cool the other day, which is inherently true, we really just end up writing for ourselves. Why fear that? It’s just a time juggle.

  2. Hi Rachel,

    I like the design of your blog. I don’t have an orange in front of me that I’m ignoring LOL, but my laptop chats with me on days like today.

    Welcome to the blogosphere.


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