My mind, a bit foggy, struggles to string a few words together on the page. It’s about five degrees too warm in my room. Despite my discomfort, the pitter patter of the rain against the window soothes me.
All is quiet for a moment. I listen, I focus. Nothing comes to mind. Intentionally or unintentionally, my mind is blank. Freedom.
I click click click through articles, essays, news, opinion pieces. I search—no, I beg—for something to come to me. Ideas swirl around me, but nothing sets the spark. The world seems less interesting right now.
I climb across my room. I sit in front of my electric keyboard, pressing a few keys aimlessly. I play a chord, and then another chord. I can’t ignite anything here either.
I crawl back onto my bed. The blank page on my laptop stares at me. I tell it to leave me alone, but it doesn’t. I tell it I will be ready in a moment, but it demands my attention now.
I try to listen to a bit of music. It helps, for a moment, but then it doesn’t. I’m putting off what I need to do. I turn the music off and return to silence.
My mind returns to how hot the room is. My skin is slightly sticky now. I’m thirsty. I take a sip of Gatorade.
Thirty minutes pass, then sixty, then ninety. Well this is it then. Enough time wasted, I will just do it. It won’t be good, but it will be done.
And there it goes, running away from me, finished. Relief sets in.
I can go to bed now.
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My mind, a bit foggy, struggles to string a few words together on the page. It’s about five degrees too warm in my room. Despite my discomfort, the pitter patter of the rain against the window soothes me.
All is quiet for a moment. I listen, I focus. Nothing comes to mind. Intentionally or unintentionally, my mind is blank. Freedom.
I click click click through articles, essays, news, opinion pieces. I search—no, I beg—for something to come to me. Ideas swirl around me, but nothing sets the spark. The world seems less interesting right now.
I climb across my room. I sit in front of my electric keyboard, pressing a few keys aimlessly. I play a chord, and then another chord. I can’t ignite anything here either.
I crawl back onto my bed. The blank page on my laptop stares at me. I tell it to leave me alone, but it doesn’t. I tell it I will be ready in a moment, but it demands my attention now.
I try to listen to a bit of music. It helps, for a moment, but then it doesn’t. I’m putting off what I need to do. I turn the music off and return to silence.
My mind returns to how hot the room is. My skin is slightly sticky now. I’m thirsty. I take a sip of Gatorade.
Thirty minutes pass, then sixty, then ninety. Well this is it then. Enough time wasted, I will just do it. It won’t be good, but it will be done.
And there it goes, running away from me, finished. Relief sets in.
I can go to bed now.
