Free writes

Need for willful breathing

Ah. Ha.

Music has me again. I feel the voices, the notes soar. They might as well be tangible things, the way they skate across my skin as a curious insect might. Times like this, and breathing normally isn’t enough. Can I breathe notes in, as I breathe them out when the spirit moves me? This can’t be casually done. Come to me, music. They say we are what we eat. Right now, I want to be what I breathe. In and out. In and out.

Free writes

Just to keep the keys clicking

Free write

I’ve overthought it again. And have done so for so long that this blog has remained quiet while I thought about it. And thought about it. And worried about it. And hated it. And forgot about it. It’s not what I want, but it helped me realize why I started, and how this is another rule that needs to change. I started this blog to punish myself. It was something I have done before, something I forced myself into, but gave up since I didn’t feel like I was enough for the task. This isn’t the first; it’s just the only one still alive. Starting under such a negative framework, where do I go from here?

Rewriting. It seems that’s what so much of the way I see things needs. A rewrite. I’m still operating under the rules of an old life manual, long past the time where the machines have broken down and all the rules have shown themselves to be obsolete. Worse, the rules were largely based on lies, or a very skewed perspective. I’m not going to argue if this basis for the new manual is perfect, but it’s definitely better, because it allows me to do things for the very reason I really wanted to start. Because there is love there, for communicating, for knowing my fingers aren’t making this pleasant noise against the keys simply for an odd music. I’m attracted to this, I love this, because I can do it, and fear needs to step aside.

This has taken me to a new place. I wasn’t expecting to assess so much of why I do what I do, but knowing that I can change this course has me feeling hopeful, in a very new way.

Free writes

I love the way this makes me feel

Free write

Trying not to think of dates, but instead of what has now captured my thoughts and air. I’m just letting my fingers go. Fly, find your rhythm, the one that leads to creativity, or expression. Yes, the one that isn’t affected by anything else around. Except for the music. And the music takes me…

I can feel the chill of a not yet warm ocean, the hot sun trying to return warmth to me, sand soft one minute and firm the next. Just the thoughts close my eyes as I hold my breath and sink, for no other reason but to be a part of this huge thing, this ecosystem, this attractive and vital liquid. Here, I can just exist-why is that thought so exciting? I’m alive. We’re alive. We exist. Up and down, in and out, the cycle- and here, not even the thought of it ending can scare me.

I can feel the weight of a heavy head of wet hair as I come up for air- the wonderful nothingness I inhale that feels so very good. When I close my eyes, I can almost be one with you. One with the never ending feeling of the tide trying to make me dance and make me stand still, inviting and declining over and over. It’s so real, my shoulders hurt slightly from the burn of an unseasonably hot sun. I shiver. It’s time to go.

I’m in awe that music can do that, take me on the most realistic of daydreams. Within that place, I feel like an immeasurably giant creature in pieces, in a cycle of running into itself and inevitably finding itself awash in the breadth of its own existence. To be given that feeling by others…I just love the way this makes me feel.

 

Inspiration- “Underwater” by Mika

Free writes

Up in the air

Free write

Today’s supposed to be a free write, but I am getting pretty distracted. Heh, actually, if you see most of the free writes in my journal, you’d think admitting this fact is a pre-requisite to getting started. Oh my gosh, my comp is playing an embarrassingly sensual song at the moment, and if I want to stay true to the free write, I can’t change it. Why in the heck does my kitchen smell like cantaloupe?

Oh dear. It’s hard to write when I’m laughing. And yes, I am one of those people who says “LOL” and means it. A fact that some of my friends on Skype have noted to me more than once. ‘sigh’ Whatever, I like it. And I want a piece of toast. I can smell it, plus that bizarre cantaloupe smell. Seriously, it’s been weeks since I had a cantaloupe. Yeah, I am slacking a little in pacing, so this isn’t a true free write. You can dock points later. The point is to go until…well, you know, I don’t put a time scheme on these things. It’s until I’m drying up or until my hands say, “I’m spasming. Cut it out.” Just might get there in a few seconds.

I confess, I “broke” the free write. It had to happen. Blah blah blah for no other reason but to get my mind and my fingers back into a rhythm. It’s just funny how the pattern of keys and clicking and up and down has an addictive quality. It’s something I almost long to feel when I’m writing my stories, better than fingers in the corner of my mouth, which indicate uncertainty, pause and consideration. But better than the smooth music of typing is the wonderful, “Aha!” that comes after pondering what in the heck to do next. Okay, now I’m realizing sometimes those fingers in the corner of my mouth are actually fingers playing with my bangs. It’s such a subconscious reaction; so often I’m not even aware I’m doing it. Soothing, I suppose.

Free writes

Change in feelings

Free write

There was a time I would have said there was no give for the feeling of being this way, in love with being alive. Not for any save those who were born of this magic. Now, more and more, I am finding that changing. I have what it takes to let those who want to feel it, feel it, if they want to. Is this my motivator? Is this what keeps my fingers clacking against the keys day in and day out, even on those days when I am so uncertain of what I am doing? It can’t be about anything else, I don’t think. I’ve tried it all. I’ve tried obligation. I tried the expectations of others. I tried experimentation. I even tried doing it because I could. But inevitably it made progress require so much force out of me that I grew to hate it. I thought I hated writing. It seemed so slippery, something I needed all my will to do.

But within, and through all the years of forcing it, it was there. It always has, and, I suspect always will be. I am possessed of a love for expression, a love so strong it terrifies me and keeps me awake nights, breathless as I realize how much of a hold it has on me. And I love that feeling. Yet I admit it did isolate me. Only here and there in my life have I seen others gripped so strongly by this love. But now, I see we all can be. We’re just afraid of saying so, for some reason. I don’t want to be afraid anymore. I don’t know, frankly, if I’ll ever achieve the fearlessness I wish to have. But I do know I don’t want to let it stop me. I’ve been able to step over it before, and I can do it again. And again. And again. I can touch, just as I have been touched. I want to give others the love that the expressions of others have given to me. Because it’s so utterly wonderful.

Free writes

I can’t believe it’s snowing

Free write

Somehow this makes things really easy, just asking myself to type without filters. Well, without the obvious ones. I still can’t believe that after the ants came out, the birds sang their song, the squirrels fooled around, there’s a coating of snow on the roof. Yeah, okay, I’m breaking the free write to fix typos. Is it even possible to ignore them once you see them? Is that like an exercise in patience? I just can’t keep going if I see one, and obviously I don’t catch them all, but that’s like finding your phone on the floor and just letting it sit there while you mop around it. Ugh. No. Typos are evil. They feel evil. They get in the way of the way the words should be. Must eliminate typos. And yeah, ignoring them is so much harder on a computer screen. On paper, I can do it, mostly because if I were to try to correct pen mistakes, taking the time to white them out would break the writing stream. Heh, white out. I remember the days of white out. To me it was more like a thing to play with than a tool. Do kids even use white out these days? I don’t miss the classroom days, but it’s one of those times where I wonder how much things have changed.

Free writes

Not what I’m used to

Free write

I kinda feel like I need to say this. I don’t intend this to be so serious all the time. I’m…well, not the best for seriousness, really. And it’s just kind of blank right now. All I know is, my feet are cold, my hands are cold, and I don’t want to move. Moving sucks. Or, at least, from where I am right now, it’s not an attractive proposition. So I won’t. Not for the moment. I can’t ignore typos. But I want some tea. Rooibos, to get rid of this sniffly nose of mine. Allergies. What I need is to go back to allergy shots. So far, my asthma has been less of an issue, which I hope keeps up as spring sets in. Although, all things considered, spring isn’t as bad here as it could be. Let’s see if I still feel that way once the cherry tree outside starts to bloom. More typing, more flowing, just to keep the words going. I don’t know where this is headed, or what I intend to do with it. It’s just chatter, really. So much of the things I’m reading, and I don’t want to be a source of pain. Nor do I want to tap into what is painful to me. It’s too easy to go there, and for the last several years, it never felt like I was more that two footsteps away from it. Why am I thinking of chapstick? No, not the lip balms I make, but Chapstick the brand, especially the ever hard-to-find strawberry flavor? I still don’t understand why it ‘s recommended for wind burned lips, when applying it only reminds you of the word “burn” in “windburn”. Ugh. More typing, more clicking, just because I can. Who knows where else this will begin to go? Reminding me of a dusty construction scene from years ago, when I was not allowed to use the word “dirty”. I haven’t done anything like that in so long. Okay, enough of the free writing. I am dying for some tea.