Day 743
Okay now...I can't keep doing this. I write. I erase. I write. I erase. I'm having trouble putting my thoughts into words. I have weeks, sometimes months, when I feel fuzzy. Uninspired. I struggle to write a few sentences. Nothing sounds right to me. The words feel weird coming off my tongue. It may just be that I'm tired. It may just be a quiet couple of months. Or, it may be that I'm angry.
I've found that the best fuel for writing is when I'm feeling especially thankful, especially grateful, sad, or a little bit mad. But not all the way mad. Anger can be used as fuel, but it's the cheap stuff. It doesn't get you very far, and it isn't good for you in the long run. So here's the truth: I'm mad at someone. I'm angry at this person. I can't forgive this person. And it's definitely giving me fuel to write, but it's the cheap stuff. The words won't matter, really. They won't mean much. And because words are so important to me, I will not cheapen them with angry rants. I will not use the cheap stuff to write with. So, tonight, I will say this:
I'm thankful for a very good Tuesday. For the best welcome home ever. Tobin and Adelyn really know how to say hello to someone. For sangria. For big glasses of ice water. For pumpkin seeds. For Roxy. For my husband. For my messy home with clothes and toys strewn all about. For moments of clarity. For some of the most beautiful words I have ever read in Herman Melville's, "Moby Dick; or, The Whale." How have I never read it before? How did I go my whole life without reading those beautiful sentences. It's a work of art, really. I can't put it down. I'm thankful for it. I'm thankful for the way a book feels in my hands. Thankful for the smell and feel of paper. Thankful for collections of words that inspire me, and make me ashamed to even attempt to use anything as useless as anger to write with.
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