It’s been so hot lately that I can’t seem to string words together to make coherent sentences, much less be creative about it. So yesterday looks something like this: To Jeffy’s – food – lake – Sara- boat – Poseidon- Adventure – sun – hot. Then BBQ- guy looks like young Paul Giamatti – ground beef – hair… grosssssssss. Eewww. Feisty Marian – sings love songs – sweet Mandy – German flute – or something. Was fun.
So that was the afternoon. I don’t think I’m built for hot weather as my body shuts down, and my brain melts out my ears. I’m a rainy-gloom lover of cloud cover and maudlin days – rich forests and jagged horizons and the sound of surf. Throw in some ivy for good measure and a river and you just made my paradise.
I still feel out of sorts, like my feet are yet to really get the groove. This morning was quiet as the main house guy who initiates all the parties was gone, and the girl from downstairs came up for breakfast. She sat at the table and then to my utter relief got up and said “He’s been here for a month? And this stuff is still not – “ Mid-sentence and mouth full of toast she started a cleaning rampage which I know from experience that one must just step back and allow to happen. I know this because I am the same way – and I know a few other people of like minds – no names – Ambria and Pha…
I asked her where she got all this energy knowing she’d stayed up till 4 am to work on her set design. She shrugged and said, “Well, I’m actually procrastinating.”
“Oh,” I said. “That makes perfect sense I always have tons of energy when I need to procrastinate.”
Anyway I realized something that should be a given but it honestly never occurred to me. I’m paying rent. I should make this place mine too. I haven’t felt safe moving anything or even cleaning (aside from the bleaching the bathroom) because I don’t yet feel like this is my home – which unfortunately makes it difficult to work, because I don’t feel right spreading out my notes and making a mess.
So with her cue I gleefully jumped in and started cleaning the kitchen. YAY! Halfway through a load of dishes I noticed a familiar feeling – the itch to write. The energy to get my notes out and do some work. Then it occurred to me that so much of my writing routine and my own brand of procrastination was housework. When I was a housewife/writer I would find excuses not to write by fronting my duties as housekeeper. Yes. Gag. I know. Anyway, dishes would start out as a procrastination/duty and eventually become a character round table discussion while sponging the silverware. Or laundry would eventually turn in to a world building session.
The mundane activity of everyday movements meant a break from sitting and staring at a blank page – but it never actually meant a break from writing. And while I resented the duty aspect, I grew to become dependent on the higher brain function that results from repetitive activities. Being that I’ve been homeless for a while – I hadn’t actually realized the importance of this discovery, so it’s definitely something to keep in mind as I go about adventuring. Perhaps now that I know what it is – I can train myself to substitute a different monotonous activity that doesn’t require a homelike structure.
I hope the heat wave isn’t melting you all too much. Stay cool. Drink water, etc.
I’ll leave you with one of my favorite movie quotes from Under the Tuscan Sun:
“If you knew her better you’d know – these brownies are a sign of procrastination.”
“How’s the book coming?”
“It’s not, but the procrastination is coming along fabulously. See, procrastination breeds abject self loathing and then I just become a writing machine.”
“It’s her process.”
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