After writing or editing nearly everyday for the past 22 months, not that anyone is maniacally and pseudo-sadistically keeping track, I took a break. Man, my fingers were tired! Tired of typing, of twiddling, of transitioning between typing and twiddling and of all of those minutes in the day having to be ready at a moment's notice to either type of twiddle.
The family paid good money to leave behind reality for 12 days and that reality included all regular activities: writing, exercise, initially welcomed, and then very soon after unwelcomed, sarcastic retorts and jousting, both of the verbal and imaginary kind. Yes, we went off on a family holiday and, contrary to what those men with beards on the corner would want you to believe, I left my keyboard at home (those bearded men on the corner seem to have a troublesome and highly confusing agenda - some would say they should keep their thoughts and their beards to themselves. I don't, as I love a free brush whenever I walk by.
Yes, I debated bringing a computer with me, but I wondered if I wanted to be that guy, before realizing that I have always been that guy aside from a short out-of-body experience I went through when I was 12. So, I thrust myself into the unknown and also into a shirt that had shrunk in the wash and was now too small and thus perfect for making my miniature muscles look bulging.
Hawaii, as I will write about in the future, was amazing. Some have referred to it as a tropical paradise, which is totally accurate. Others have called it a wonderland, which is also quite true. Still other people have called it a post-apocalyptic wasteland. Those people shouldn't be trusted, although they do make quite accurate restaurant reviews.
We were so busy having fun that I didn't miss writing at all, or more correctly, I only missed it during those few minutes each evening after another day-long adventure when I huddled on the floor in the bathroom dealing with my withdrawal. In some ways I longed to write and in other ways, it was more of a medium distance, somewhere between short and long, but ends up being hard to define.
But in other ways, without writing, I also felt free like a caged bird who finally figured out how to open the latch or just one of those other birds who live outside cages who could show a tiny bit more compassion for their caged brethren. Before our trip I had felt trapped by the cage of my writing rituals and intimidated by all of the yelling and screaming and domino tiles that accompanied both the demands I placed on myself as well as those that were called in during phone-in hours to spend every free moment typing away.
But on the trip, free time was spent either looking at my wife, myself, or drawing pictures of some weird hybrid of the two of us that I imagine when brushing my teeth. I imagine a lot while performing hygienic tasks in the bathroom and hope one day to put out a series of graphic novels for new citizens as many of the thoughts revolve around immigration. I blame the new floss I'm using.
Then, as all vacations do, it ended, but thankfully not with a crash or, more confusingly, with a loud pop and whistle and free popcorn. I returned to my land, my house, my lair and my computer, and when no one was looking, I wanted to give it either a high five or an embrace, but was so indecisive I made some toast.
So, here I am, writing again. It feels similar to how it once did, and yet, it also feels quite different like in a hard-to-quantify-but-not-impossible-only-I'm-not-in-the-mood-right-now-to-explore-all-the-various-small-ways-it-could-be-quantified-not-to-say-I-won't-feel-differently-tomorrow-so-please-check-in.
I am still the same person with my unique views that may place me high on the -first-to-be-given-up-for-alien-adoption-if-the-topic-comes-up. And yet my experiences have changed me forever and have expanded my brain to the point where I'm looking for a large playground, just not so large that visitors start wondering "what's up with all of the empty space here, couldn't they have added in a swing set?" if you know what I'm talking about. I don't.
Will I return to writing each and every day? Will I continue to stare at the screen blinking as if to pray for the pieces to write themselves? Will I stop thinking about gnawing on raw ginger and just take the plunge already? Will I take off these safety goggles at some point so I seem "more presentable"?
All good questions! And no answers! Some things never change, until they do. Only time will tell and, in my experience, only if I start to tip bigger.
I just had a great weekend and am about to head off to sleep as tomorrow is Monday! And not just any Monday, but the Monday I have been looking forward to for so long as I am finally being given my first project and that is saying something because Mondays have always held a special place in my heart.
I'm not sure how or why my boss has finally decided to trust me - where and who, I know, but how and why, I'm still so confused. I was considering asking him for a minimum 1000 word answer as to why, but he reacted so poorly last time.
Instead I've decided to attack the project head-on to show the others my blatant disregard for neck safety as well as my desire to succeed at close to all costs, but not quite all costs as some costs are just too prohibitively high these days. I blame the stock market.
I had quite the weekend full of nervous pacing, followed by nervous sitting when my feet got sore from all of the pacing, followed by an amazing dinner of hard boiled eggs and celery and then a bath so saturated with Epsom salts that calling it a bath was actually completely inaccurate as it was more of me rolling around trying to get comfortable in a tub of damp salt crystals. The prophecy was correct after all.
And the creative juices were flowing as well as the actual juices as I accidentally tipped the cartons I had left open on the counter for some odd reason onto their side in my excited state. As you know diary, I just can't be held accountable for my actions when in an excited state. I just wish my floor wasn't so sticky!
I have so many great ideas! I can't decide which to pitch first. Should I go with the sure thing or the most creative or the one that may make every simultaneously slap their faces as well as the face of the person to their immediate right?
And what shirt should I wear? The power blue? The angry red? The red and blue vertical striped shirt that gives me the illusion of being a barber shop pole?
I just can't wait to march or walk or even possibly stride into the conference room first thing tomorrow as I just can't anticipate or decide exactly how I will feel like entering the room. I close my eyes and I can just picture the full conference room now. I can also picture both a half-empty and completely-empty conference room at no extra charge. I can almost hear the oohs and aahs and "good jobs" now. My ears are so ready for those sounds - I've been resting them all weekend.
I know my colleagues are excited for me to finally take the lead on a project but they have such confusing ways of showing their support. One guy, upon seeing me, runs out of the building screaming. Another guy tries to comfort me, I think, by patting me on the head and scratching me behind the ears, which I really enjoy. And yet another, never talks and only nods and winks in alternating fashion.
I don't want to look ahead, but if this first project goes well...the sky's the limit for me, diary! And yes, I am fully aware that the sky is not my actual limit as that is only an expression and it doesn't actually make any sense in reality as how well I do in my job won't make me test the vertical limits I can rise or climb.
I can just sense that this advertising company is just looking for a brand-new voice and I took vocal training for years trying to be a voice-over actor that never completely panned out as those auditions are all "who you know" and "how do you know them?" and "I'm sorry ma'am, we will have to escort you out of the building". Now I can put those multiple voice to use!
Looking at the time, I probably should go to bed so that I can be well rested for tomorrow. I need to knock this one out of the park as well as finding a nice shady spot in the park for the company summer picnic I've been asked to plan. That's right! I am on the social committee now as well, or I guess it is more accurate to say I am the social committee as no one else attends or can be seen within 50 metres of the meetings.
Okay diary, off to brush and floss my teeth and then wash my face and go to bed, only in that order this time as it just didn't make any sense last time to have to keep getting up every 30 minutes.