Ever since I started this micro blog, I felt my heart break open to writing in a way I've previously struggled with. I've given myself permission to be honest, partially because I assume next to no one reads it, and I'm basically just typing out a social media post. Imperfect. Daring. A little sloppy. Hell, people may read this and not be able to follow my butterfly-brained stream of consciousness! But I've grown tired of trying to base what I create off of what I think people want, when there is no way I could ever pin that down. Even if I did, it doesn't feel good to give people what they want if it's not what I want. That's a recipe for burnout I've toasted to a char. I've always wanted to share the deep bits through my writing, the embarrassing moments that seem easier to keep secret but bog us down with the shame of hiding who we are.
It's been a relief spilling my ideas here, because with my first book in progress, I've been building up the pressure. Feeling not literary enough. Inexperienced. Maybe too boring! The voice of the imaginary They has been filling my head. But all I wanna do is this! All I wanna do is write. Typing up this micro blog every day is my way of being open with my spirit and courageous with my dream. It's my way of saying, "Fuck you, Perfectionism!" and letting inspiration flow through freely. When we are brave enough to express the ideas we love, it opens a floodgate.
So I've been mixing the ultimate Creative's Cocktail: no social media, dedicated napping and hardcore lounging. Every once in awhile, around the times when I'm about to grow big, evolve monumentally or a lot of shit's about to change, I'll binge watch whole show seasons to linger in intentional procrastination before hitting turbo speed. And right now, my little Golden Girl kitty cat is starting to wind down on life. I've been here with her, giving her lots of kisses and having loving conversations with her about how much she has taught me. We dragged one of our mattresses into the living room so she always has one of us close, to give her soft caresses between her eyes, or hold the mug she drinks water from. The transition is thus far peaceful and loving and soft. She's given us the time to embrace the change this brings.
I've sat around eating lots of bread, and watching episodes of the HBO show Girls in strings of hours. Sinking into the feeling that this productivity dead-zone is actually welcoming in much more enlightening experiences than if I worked away over my rising emotions as her transition nears. I feel tired and not really driven to do anything past this virtual diary. I'm floating in a blank space my soul has gapped out for me as a resting hammock, while the most meaningful experiences in my life take precedence. It feels good to be here, for the soul purpose of loving. Time passes slower in the peaceful knowing that everything is in process.