Case of Cold Hands

Next weekend, I plan to engage in some more writing-avoidance because emotions will once again be high. No chance to zombify myself.

After work on Friday, I’ll go home and make a double portion of matbucha because I rule. And then I’ll clean the house because it’s my turn. And then, if I have any time left before going for dinner (unlikely), I’ll sleep, because I’ll be tired as hell.

Then I’ll shower and pack my stuff cuz I’m going to have dinner at my boyfriend’s parents place, and sleep over; and the next day, we’ll both go to my grrrlfriend Deb for lunch.

So yeah, no chance to write this time around either. And I don’t think it’s because the Mother Goddess doesn’t want me to break the Sabbath, because I break it on a regular basis whether I have a chance to write or not.

Maybe the Zone is a forbidden place. Could it be that the Zone is a cardinally sinful place to the point where even mentioning it as a sin in the holy Torah is sacriligious?

Naaa. No way. If the Zone was so bad, I’d be dead, buried and severely decomposed by now. And although I may look it when I’m not wearing any makeup, the truth is I am very much alive.

So I am crossing out the possibility of divine intervention for my not finding time or mindset to write on the weekend.

Brilliant idea then: Just like I have a specific time that I reserve for work (50 longass hours a week, not including overtime), therapy (30 minutes to an hour a week on average), face-stuffing (to tired to calculate), etc., I’ll set a specific time for writing! And then, I’ll have to treat it as seriously as all the other things that have to be done at that given time, because I have no other choice.

Problem with brilliant idea: I hate writing on such a cold, static schedule. Inspiration comes and goes, and in my case, it comes at the most inopportune time. I can’t invocate inspiration on command.

Screw this. I’ll give my idea a chance anyway. Maybe my computer screen will be all the inspiration I need to fill it with words and shit. Just like what they say about food. You may not be hungry, but once you see food, gluttony arises.

Peace, love and still freezing over here.


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