Yesterday, on my day off, I sat at my table playing Scrabble with a friend on the other side of the world, then I did some cleaning, then I read a book, all to avoid figuring out of what to write for Day #18, about the perspective of a 12-year-old boy watching an old woman being evicted from her home across the street. I just couldn’t work out what to write. I thought of some things and then I thought ‘But maybe that’s what a 12-year-old girl would think?’ Then I thought ‘What if it’s just what I would think?’ I couldn’t work out if I was being true to the 12-year-old boy. Then I was frustrated that I even cared about being true to the 12-year-old boy. Then I just read some more of a book.
I do tend to ‘go on a bit’ about things, inside and outside my head. I’m trying to stop sharing my thoughts out loud so much – but then here I am on a blog page, sharing, typing my thoughts. But then that’s what we were asked to do today. Just sit and type for 40 minutes about whatever is on our mind – even if it’s something a little bit unusual or downright crazy.
But I don’t want to share what I’m really thinking! When I do, even with very patient friends, it comes out wrong, or it sounds pathetic (and maybe it is!) or it sounds just like the thoughts I had last time I shared with them. Then I feel the pressure to be interesting and think new things and feel new feelings – well, it can all be a bit much.
And I don’t want to type for 40 minutes. So, you know what, I just might not!! It’ll be good practice for my continued learning that rules are often only rules in my head – and that it’s OK to ‘break’ them sometimes. Like, I don’t have to do Day #18’s post about the little boy – but then he wouldn’t be little. He’d be 12. And I don’t understand teenagers very much. But then teenagers don’t always understand teenagers very much…
I don’t want to type what I’m really thinking. Because you’ll have heard it all before. Maybe not from my mouth, maybe not my story, but somebody else’s. They’re common, clichéd, old thoughts. As old as the hills. They’re thoughts full of questions and no answers – or no answers that are good answers. They’re thoughts of conversations never had. Of conflicts never resolved. Of dreams not made into reality.
Today I bought a new set of three Moleskine notebooks. My other notebooks are full. I bought the ones that I like, the ones with no lines. In my order-loving life, I like to think I can free things up a bit and give myself some space to write outside the lines – with no lines. I like to think that anyway.
Though, today I also bought my Moleskine diary for 2015. I’m a bit hopeless like that. As soon as June comes to an end, I want the diary for the following calendar year. I’m always thinking ahead. I want to plan and have boundaries. So, clearly I don’t love freedom that much.
I’ve just stopped my free-flow of writing to check the instructions for today’s prompt. I needed to check I was doing the right thing, after all. Except I discovered that I wasn’t doing the right thing. It was 400 words – not 40 minutes.
I’m at 563 words. Wait – 567. Stop that!
So, I’m just going to stop now. The sharing of my thoughts, that is. Not the thinking of them. I can’t stop the thinking.