...writing exercise

From a book called "Writing for Self Discovery." Hokey title, I know. But some of these writing prompts are very good. And I want to try them out. I just finished the first one. It is called At This Moment. So I took my book outside and wrote for half an hour.

At This Moment: Friday November 28, about noon.
There are residual puddles from this morning's rain. The usual pigeons are absent, replaced by small brown birds. I live in city, I don't know what they are called. The sky is encased in clouds. Big, puffy, white clouds that completely obscure any hint of blue sky beyond. These clouds makes things in the distance look foggy. A man is looking through a phone book, a little boy is carrying a big water jug. My view north is blocked by a large, red building. But through the windows I can see the train passing. East is the homeless shleter with its colorful mosaic of tiles and only one person milling around outside instead of the usual crowd. Beyond that is the city and then the mountains, which I cannot see through the fog but I know are there. West is the brick building I live in and just past that, the train station. I can just see the top of the train as it rounds the corner. And past that, the cement wall of the freeway. I can't see the cars. Behind me, to the south, is my front door. White, with a big window in the middle. I can smell my cigarette smoke, my coffee, faintly, but mostly I smell coldness. Does coldness have a smell? It does today. Where I live in the city, there is never a shortage of noise. I can hear the bell of the train, the brakes of a bus pulling up to the curb, a car honking its horn, cars driving past, muffled footsteps and even more muffled conversation. I can hear air blowing, the sound of a car startin, pulling away. The sound of car doors slamming. The squeal of brakes. The constant susurrus of the freeway. The flapping of wings. Little bird chirps. And if I listen very closely I can hear the breeze ruffling the leaves of the only tree by my building. A sad little thing, brown and crinkly. I feel cold. It gets cold in the winter here but it's been mild so far. Today, I can feel the bite of winter. It gets too cold for comfort so I move inside. Inside it is warm and orange. And quiet. I can hear the dryer tumbling, the fridge humming, the neighbor walking up the stairs, the faint sound of cars outside. The chair squeaks when I move and the spoon scrapes when I stir. I see a constant mess. Which will be cleaned and messed again. I see the Windows logo bouncing around on my computer screen. I see the cat urled up on the futon. He raises his head as if he knows I am writing about him. My sweater is old and pilled but soft and worn and comfortable. My hair is tangled and my eyelashes are crusted from sleep. I feel the contentment of being allowed to sleep in until 11 and not have any pressing obligations to worry about. The clock blinks a green 11:27. In the back of my mind, I know I have tests to grade and lessons to plan but I am not worried about it. I am still full from Thanksgiving dinner yesterday. I have leftovers in the fridge. I wonder why J wasn't this awesome to me when we were together. I wonder if Z thinks about me while he is away. I want to smell him. I love his smell. I wonder what I should do next? Draw? Paint? Read? Go see if Slowtrain has the new Uzi and Ari cd? Put my clothes from the dryer away? Go to the bookstore? Go back to bed?

...getting caught up

two months. I keep forgetting that I signed up for a blog. Not that it matters, it's just for me anyway. I've been so busy getting my life back that I haven't stopped to think about it. For the first time, I feel like excited about things. I feel creative and motivated and ok. Taking that stupid pill for the first time was so hard. But I wouldn't go back for anything now. I was reading through old journals and realized something...this has been going on a long time. Clear back to my teen years I have entries that say things like, "I feel so bored with life" "When is something exciting going to happen?" "I never feel like doing anything. I feel stagnant." My language gets more sophisticated as I get older but it basically says the same thing for 10 years. And I feel like I have found an answer. I am not bugging Jason anymore. I am moving on with my life. I am LOVING being a teacher. I am making art. I am hanging out with someone new and amazing. I feel deliciously optimistic and it's such a relief to know what this feels like for what seems to be the first time in my life. I want to do things and see things and make things. I want to get out of bed in the morning. I love my students, even the little shits. I have crappy days still but I deal with them better. I don't find myself getting soo down. I don't get to the point where I can't do anything. I don't freak out and start bawling. I deal with it. My reactions are smoother and smarter. I am not trying to sound like a commercial for antidepressants. They just work for me, as much as I hate to fucking admit it.