I’ve been “writing” for the last two hours and this is all I have to show for it.

I started writing a really nice post about how I am returning to writing because I want to exercise that muscle again because I love words and the way it feels when you can describe something in a way that illuminates it in a way that readers who weren’t there go, “Goddamnit she’s right.” But I had to do a little bit of mental preparation first; Reading the archives of my high school xanga turned into reading the novel I tried writing at seventeen. That turned into laughing at myself turned into trying to validate myself again which lead in a temporarily fruitless search for the first piece that won me a flash fiction contest. I like the first one better, but the only one I can find is the second piece that won me a flash fiction contest. THE STRUGGLE IS SO REAL, YOU GUYS.

I found myself clad but naked that caramel August evening. With iced espresso bitter on my tongue, I watched as you arranged vibratos for strings note by note. For a dollop of a moment, you and your thoughts were mine to taste – tart and airy like a meringue. As your fingers volleyed the piano keys, the saccharine words slithered to my pursed lips: I love you.

I think I was hungry. At the very least, I really wanted dessert.

Advertisements

Whoops.

I came home from the gym all set to write a witty How To blog post but then I got a bunch of magazines and catalogs to look at while I take a bubble bath. Sorry guys, I have to keep my priorities straight – serious writing or unproductive relaxation with bubbles, cider, and whiskey? I’m going to go with the semi-drunk bubble bath.

Anyway, I’m still alive and occasionally I think about this blog. I sometimes even jot down great ideas for posts, but the whole following through thing is giving me a real hard time.

image

Things I’d rather do than pack

I’m moving into my own flat on Monday. And you know how I haven’t been posting much? My internal excuse is that I’m preparing to move and I need to train for my next race (June 22). In reality, I’ve been playing bluegrass with my uncle once a week and not doing anything until the weekend rolls around and I go on a social binge; Last Saturday consisted of overtime, family time, then a movie date followed by a drink with another friend that lasted till 3am. Sunday was a day spent in the park reading & watching LARPers followed by dinner and music-making around a fire with Matt till 11:30. I don’t really know what I’ve done in the evenings for the last two weeks. I haven’t been running or working excessive overtime. I’ll just say that I’ve been resting in preparation for my move this weekend.

This is my progress. I'm so close to having started packing.

This is my progress. I’m so close to having started packing.

But now that it’s come down to the wire, I don’t really want to do anything. My mother had surgery yesterday (she’s doing really well – she had surgery on her neck for degenerative discs), so I was at the hospital till about nine last night. I came home ready to drink whiskey and listen to Justin Timberlake while I packed up everything. I packed three boxes (two shelves worth of books, a few blankets, toiletry items), then took a break to see if I really did know all the words to Kanye West’s Monster (spoiler alert: I don’t).  Then I got distracted by geeking out about Arrested Development with a friend.

By the way, it’s unacceptable that the new season of Arrested Development premieres at 2:01am for me. Fuck you, Pacific Standard Time. I need to see new Buster and Lucille antics immediately. That 90-second clip was not enough.

As you can tell, I’m not what you would call “motivated to pack my shit.” I’m really excited to be in my new place, but what makes it tough is that my big pieces of furniture won’t be moved until Monday when I have my truck. The whole idea behind renting a truck was to get everything – furniture, boxes, clothes, bike, EVERYTHING – in one trip. So I mean, why spend all day putting things in boxes if it’s just going to sit here another night?

I got the keys yesterday, then I promptly took 50 selfies in the gigantic mirror.

I got the keys yesterday. I then promptly took 50 selfies in the gigantic mirror.

I would rather:

  1. Spend the morning in bed drinking coffee and browsing Pinterest
  2. Spend the morning in bed drinking coffee and reading David Sedaris
  3. Rewatch Arrested Development for the 30th time before the premiere 
  4. Bake cornbread muffins
  5. Pick flowers
  6. Listen to the new Daft Punk because it doesn’t sound like my nightmares
  7. Write this blog post that is going absolutely nowhere 
  8. Drink three more cups of coffee so I get gut-ache
  9. Rewatch the season finale of New Girl because holy shit Nick and Jess rode off together
  10. Look at all my old instagrams and think “God I look like a douchebag.”
  11. Reread my old blog posts to find all my spelling, punctuation, and grammar mistakes
  12. Learn Devil Went Down to Georgia to make everyone lose their shit next time I take out my violin
  13. Watch Daily Grace videos all day
  14. Day drink till I get to the point Seagrams is an acceptable whiskey to sip on the rocks
  15. Reorganize my Pinterest boards
  16. Pamper myself with a facial and mani-pedi because seriously – how am I supposed to move into a new place with pores and cuticles like this?
  17. Learn the lyrics to all of Kanye’s songs
  18. Start reading War & Peace
  19. Get irrationally pissed when Facebook shows me an ad for trendy plus-sized clothes
  20. Wait for teletransportation to be a thing
Look at those lead glass windows! Won't that be beautiful to see everyday?

Look at those lead glass windows! Won’t that be beautiful to see everyday?

I started flipping through the pictures I took yesterday in hopes that would motivate me. It didn’t really. It just made me wish even more that all of  my belongings would just poof themselves 20 miles away, into my new perfectly decorated and organized flat. 

UGH. 

Fine. 

I’ll go pack my shit.