What Do You Write About?


Myself.

All the time.

Me.

I’m thinking about the Carmen show and what’s on the channel, and hey, what’s she going to do next?

I could also just take a moment, a fucking minute, a second, and appreciate what I did do today before moving on to the next yoga class, the next day at work, the next doing the deal, going after my PhD, the next date, what’s up with this thing, that thing, the other thing, hey where did all my time go?

Today.

I did a lot.

A LOT.

I cleaned like a house a fire.

Because.

Hey, don’t you know, grad school papers being due will light that fire under your ass and suddenly, wow, look how clean my toilet is!

Who knew I wanted to scour the bathroom today?

I mean.

Seriously.

I washed three loads of laundry.

Put fresh sheets on the bed.

Cleaned, tidied, swept, vacuumed, Swiffer’ed the floors, yeah I know it’s not a noun, shut up.

I also met with a lady for an hour and did the deal.

I just got back from sitting in a church on a folding chair too.

And.

I cooked like a person who is going to be hella busy all week.

A person who will be heading into her second weekend of grad school intensive madness this upcoming weekend.

The thing with the weekend program is that I have to work doubly hard the weekend before.

Not just catching up on all the reading.

ALL THE READING!

FUCK ME.

There is so much reading, especially for my Psychopathology and Psychological Assessment class, an absurd amount of reading.

I read so much yesterday I thought my eyes were going to fall out of my head.

I definitely felt my brain getting squashed trying to retain the information.

Anyway.

There is so much to do the weekend before too as it’s my prep for the work week and make food for school and make sure I have all my necessities in the house because I sure as shit won’t be making any stops after an eleven hour day in class.

The usual pit stop is my bed.

With maybe a blog in there to offset the school.

Granted.

I am looking forward to going to class because I miss my friends.

One of my girl friends and I texted a ton today and thank god for girlfriends, I got to get in a good check in, have a good cry, get it out of my system, and then suddenly see that I am taking things to damn seriously, that it’s not that big a deal and I have my big girl pants on and fuck me, it’s a gorgeous day out.

And.

My house is sparkling.

And.

Yes.

I did all the cooking.

I mean.

All of it.

I roasted a chicken yesterday.

I made salt and pepper encrusted roast chicken with tarragon butter; brown butter brussels sprouts with crimini mushrooms, and applewood smoked bacon; and huge pot of brown rice with turmeric and garlic.

I had an amazing dinner on the back patio and saved the chicken and rice for cooking today.

I made two things.

One of them I’ll be eating at work and the other I will take with me to classes over the weekend.

The first thing I did was strip the meat off the chicken I roasted last night and I tossed the bones and carcass along with a yellow onion into some water and let is simmer down for soup stock.

Then I took the nicer bits of the chicken and sautéed them with onions and garlic and added shredded brussels sprouts and brown mushrooms to the mix.

I mixed in some turmeric garlic brown rice and froze up three double containers of it.

One for each day I’m in class.

Then.

I made chicken soup.

I shredded the chicken meat off the bones, after they had cooled off a bit, added a bunch of veggies and herbs and let it all sit and simmer while I got on with my grad school self.

I wrote two papers today.

Booya!

They were actually a tiny bit more challenging than I thought, but mostly from the standpoint of having to be succinct and clear in two to three pages.

Sometimes a short paper is harder to write because I have a lot to say.

A lot.

And then I have to go back and tailor it and edit it down.

Which I did.

Then when the papers were done I had a nice bowl of homemade chicken soup and a slice of sharp cheddar cheese and sat on the back patio and caught the last of the warm sunny day.

I was not remiss to miss the day.

It’s going to happen.

I’m in graduate school.

There’s a lot I am going to miss out on while I do the work to be in the program.

I’m grateful that I get to go to graduate school.

Not that many people do.

Despite my skewered position and perspective, I know how extraordinary it is to be getting a higher education in this world, my griping about student loans not withstanding.

So when I ran into a woman tonight and we were talking school and writing she wanted to pick my brain and ask all sorts of questions about writing and how do you do it.

 

You want to be a writer/you don’t know how or when/find a quiet corner/use a humble pen.

That’s it.

Sit down and write.

Show up to the page without expectation of what is going to come out.

Practice, just well, just fucking do it.

There is no becoming a writer or a therapist or a doctor or a pro-athlete without putting in the time and effort.

If I had waited until I had a good idea about what to write, well, I wouldn’t be writing now.

I just show up.

That’s the magic.

That’s it.

I swear.

Sit down.

Show up.

The magic always happens.

Granted it doesn’t always look like what I think it should look like.

It’s often better.

Now.

You’ll have to excuse me.

I have some more reading to do.

Happy Sunday y’all.

Make it a great fucking week.

 

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