I sat down to try and do some writing, but I got lost in life around me.
My canary started singing a haunting tune as he sits two feet away from me on his perch. If I close you eyes I can bring my blood pressure down at least 20 points.
Then the sound of the water fountains in my pool, distracts me. I have a lush, emerald, jungle, in my back yard. Huge banana, pink flowering pentas, palms, and a large avocado tree, surround the aqua blue 15X30 pool outside of my sliding glass back door. We put a lot of money into the yard when we both had jobs. Now when I close my eyes I get another 10 points off the BP.
I smell the jasmine it's sweet cloying sense drugs me.
While my eyes are still closed my soft coated, black, German Shepard sits at my feet. My hands use another sense that brings another 10 points at least.
I open my eyes and look at the overwhelming collection of tropicals outside my door. I have achieved a measure of peace that frees my soul. Not to mention another drop in BP.
Then it hits. A wave of power so fierce my heart slams in my chest from the sudden appearance.
the TV sound blasts a mind altering commercial not ten feet from me. The instant sound of the speakers sending strong shocks through my system.
I look up and see it, I thought I had more time, I thought I could heal part of my stressed soul and be more creative. Write more--dream--accomplish.... Those three words undo me, my BP raises 50 points, my body is on flight or fight mode and I suddenly deflate.
I can't write now. The inspiration has left me. The drudgery of repetition brings a huge sigh from deep within me as I rise.
The smell of sweat is repugnant. Black sludge in my kitchen sink has hands are washed with orange degreaser.
He's back..he's so loud, and bossy today, and he says it again, "What's for dinner". He had to work on the car and he hates it and is torturing me because he feels like it. He is really pisssing me off. Another 15 points up, up, up.
Men, my sister always says, it's a matter of finding the least of the worst.
Well maybe tomorrow, if I make it. I'll write some more, (grin) I begin dinner and he really will not like it I can guarantee it. That's the thing with power. The ultimate revenge is in the hands of the cook!
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I think moments like you have shared here, happen frequently with all writers.
ReplyDeleteIts calm, perfect for writing, you are in that space, and suddenly! you are hit with an assault of noise and distraction and the feeling to write leaves.
It does come back, the inspiration, the peace, the space, the feeling and the passion is always there...
Happy writings.
Thank you so much for coming by Authors Promoting Authors.