July 9th, 2011

at sea

some days i just want to sail away

Agh. I've rewritten this about three times now--maybe this time will stick. So. Right now my ... not life, that's not the issue, it's me (a chorus you're probably a bit sick of hearing me sing) ... stuff (that's not right either, but fill in as best makes sense to you) reminds me of the time I began walking across what I thought was a plain old field but was actually composed of tufts of grass knee-high and just too small to provide solid footing. And of course, by the time I realized that the entire field was like this, I was far enough into it for it to make better sense to just keep going. And it was uphill, and wet, and I had a ferry to catch fairly soon, and the whole thing was rather a mess.

And I found myself all but laughing the entire time out of sheer ... I don't know, exhilaration? Appreciation for the ridiculousness of the situation? Delight to be out in the wide world with nothing to worry about except getting to the top of the hill?

Writing feels a bit like this right now. Not exactly unpleasant, but not easy, not the way I expect, and there's deadlines and things hovering over the edge of the hill.

If I keep trying long enough, eventually the words will fill up the page and an end will come, and perhaps someone will be interested in reading the result. And if not, there is satisfaction in looking back over even seemingly small accomplishments.

Thus ends a rather maudlin post. Maybe next week I'll be able to coax Batman & Co. back in for a poll or two and return to being mildly entertaining.