somebody told me i should be writing. so i asked, have you seen my writing lately? this person look bewildered. I said “I am guessing you have not seen it because if you had, you might think i should be knitting instead,” which I instantly regretted because it may have sounded like i was essentially saying ‘those who cannot write, knit.’ Were I a knitter I would be quite insulted.

But you know that’s not what I meant.

I just meant to say that if this person had read what I have been writing lately, they might think that my energies could be put to much better use doing something else.

It’s kind of scary and disconcerting. To recognize that what might be your greatest strength might not be anything to write home about. I used to think that my non-writing was untapped potential and that I could be doing so much more, taking things so much further. But I don’t enjoy writing and reading what I write is the opposite of enjoyment.

But I don’t have very many options in my isolation exile in New England. There’s an urgency to communicate something to somebody. A pressing urgency. And communication requires words. Written or spoken. But what if you have run out of words? Or just never learned the right ones to use, the very best ones?

What are your options?

One option was to go Dia: Beacon today, which was amazing. I loved every moment of it. Except for the moments when I was dodging the cameras because people are taking photos constantly. You really have to be on your toes to avoid accidentally stepping into someone’s photo. I felt old and crotchety because I remember going to museums before there were smart phones with cameras. When people came to look at the art rather than using art as a backdrop for a selfie or a family photo. Now an art museum feels more like Disneyland.

Every words that I have just written has been completely against the grain. My body and soul are crying out, “stop it already. we hate writing!” There has to be a way for me to work through this. I’m not sure what the answer is.

The Artist’s Way? Maybe I should give another try. Morning pages sound pretty awful for someone who barely functions in the morning  during the work week. But perhaps I need to break out of unhealthy patterns. There’s a lot to break out of. I would not even know where to start.

About The Lost Pedestrian

In my wanderings throughout the moments/days/years, I try in earnest to find the mystical within the mundane and the mundane within the mystical, oftentimes confusing one from the other. I have wandered and roamed through many a city, many a town, in a state of wonder and bewilderment, without necessarily going anywhere. I am easily lost, but eventually found. (I am guessing you have just found me). My sincere hope is that you will find Something in this warehouse of thought, memory and false memory, words, numbers, tangents, murmurs, echoes (lots and lots of echoes), voices, dreams, and other paraphernalia.
This entry was posted in presenteeism, foggy, work, computer screen, living situation, resolve, prognostication, urgency, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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