Bossy Bestie

So my bestie, Kelly, tells me I need to stop slaving over each blog post and just simply write down what I do on any given day. 

She says, “It doesn't have to be perfect.  Just write this: 'Today I' and fill in the blank.”

“You don't get it,” I say.  “I can't.  I really can't.  It's physically impossible.”

“You're a jerk,” She says.

I tell her, “You don't understand.  I'm a sensitive, fragile writer.  I’m like a slug, I have no natural defenses.  Now shut your face, or I'll shut it for you.”

I find myself rewriting and revising emails, journal entries, and texts.  I even edit and revise TO DO lists that I write on little pieces of paper and keep in the right-hand pocket of my scrubs.  I can’t write a sentence without painstakingly re-reading for clarity and voice.  Those last two sentences?  A total of four rewrites.  I do it without wanting to, the same way a swimmer must come to the surface for a gulp of air.  It’s my oxygen, this revision.  I wish I could refrain from it, hold my breath and just keep diving for the unknown depths below, but I can’t.  After a few seconds, my lungs burn and my fingers ache to swim back.  Of course it doesn’t hurt to keep trying. 

Today I:

• Managed to not cry when the alarm clock went off.  (No combination of favorite tunes and snooze buttoning makes the morning easier.)

• Sent a series of prayers heavenward like devotional smoke signals.  (Will God accept code?)

• Chewed caramels until my teeth hurt.  (Eating sticky candy is like whistling through the dental graveyard.)

• Thought and thought and thought until it hurt.  (Is reflection supposed to be painful?)

• Rewrote my TO DO list: do the laundry, wash the mini blinds, clean the stove, order more ink for my Pilot Plumix fountain pen, borrow Gorilla Glue from Mom, look for a job.  (No matter what I cross off, something new always fills its place.)

• Ate pasta, drank wine.  (Isn’t it wonderful?)

Yes, Kelly that was hard.  If I told you how much, you’d probably punch me in the neck.  Nathaniel Hawthorne said, “Easy reading is damn hard writing.”  Good Ol’ Natty Hawthorne.  I think, maybe if he were still alive, we might be besties.

 You don’t have to say it, Kelly—I love you, too.   

Reason I Didn't Write Yesterday: Morning Moodiness