I've gotten home at the very early hour of 3:33 pm in the afternoon.
Lying on my belly on my bed as I write this freewrite.
Pandora is gnawing on the leathery parts of my black suede sneakers and I'm just not stopping her. She wants me to feed her.
I found a sunny spot in the Writing Center to do some journal writing...summers are slow, we've had three students in two weeks. I enjoy the hushed tones of the place. The quiet space to think and write.
Bleu is in his room strumming chords on his guitar and I can hear the children in the backyard yell and roar and cry as they play. Mami and Magdelena are chatting in Spanish while they keep an eye on the kids. Mami sings to them "suve a mi moto" didn't Menudo sing that song?
My 5.30 date with S. has been cancelled so I'm here trying to rev myself up to do work / start homework / do some reading / write some poetry / work on a scene for my playwriting group / clean my desk / write out my to-do list or at least figure out what needs to go on a to-do list.
What I'd rather be doing is chat with Sam, watch back episodes of Eureka on Hulu, go to the beach, go for a swim, go for a walk, listen to music, sleep, hmmmm.
So I lie here on my belly...watching the clock tick tick tick away. Why do I feel like I'm running out of time?
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Monday, June 1, 2009
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It sounds ideal, restful, and a great use of time. Good for you! If only more people used time like this more often. I think we would all feel more peace, less pressure, and probably would care about things more deeply.
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