Out of Practice

I haven’t written for two days. The past two mornings my alarm went off at crazy-o’clock so I could get in some writing before hopping on the subway for the day job and I, with full consciousness, reset the alarm so I could sleep. But those two days of no-writing also became two days of a monstrous mood that followed me home after work and… enough said. I think the lesson here is that if I don’t make some effort to write, even if I only have a spare hour, I become that person you don’t want in the room with you—you know that person. Even I want to avoid me.

Maybe I’m all off because I’m in limbo. I am still waiting on things out of my control to either (1) revise the work-for-hire project or (2) continue the novel that will be due soon, so I am on my own at the moment, free to write whatever I want to write. You’d think that would make me dance around the room or leap through a meadow, but all I feel is a bit scattered at the moment. There are just so many things I want to do…

So, this morning, I got up and am attempting to work on a fellowship application. I don’t know why I keep applying to these things—I’m nothing if not persistent. Or is it naive? Problem is, I haven’t gotten much done on this application. I keep thinking back to my dream early this morning of being forced to be back in high school, and hours late, and not sure where I was supposed to be because I’d misplaced my schedule, and some girl was mad at me and I was afraid of sitting near an open window because I thought she’d, like, do something to me during class and… Ugh, high school dreams.

Also, I don’t think there’s a shot of espresso in my drink. Also, I have to leave for work now in 10 minutes. Also, I found out how much I owe the IRS and realized I don’t have enough to pay it until my advance-on-signing check comes in… and the contracts department is taking forever for no reason anyone could explain to me, even though I sent in the signed contract on February 16.

I’m a little bit in trouble about that, I guess.

Am I becoming that person you don’t want in the room with you, already? It’s not even nine o’clock!

Maybe I should try and write during lunch.

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