Turns out I haven't seen Fuller House yet, I just assume it is remarkable. Remarkable and, yes, probably a dream. What if Fuller House is just a dream that we are all dreaming at the same time? I made a very, very similar joke about this over on Twitter, but why not use it here? If it's good, it's good. And I'm the only one who gets to decide whether or not my jokes are good. I'm also the only one who gets to decide whether or not I become my own mayor.
When I sit down to write, maybe I should have something to say. No, that's not true. In fact, I think I should approach writing in a completely blank state with a blank slate. If I have an agenda, I remain closed off. On the other hand, having a goal such as, "I want to write something to break and mend hearts" seems nice. I think that's okay. It's broad enough so that multiple paths stay open. Walk down some of those paths and be okay with any dead ends. Dead ends aren't always bad. Dead ends narrow your focus, allowing you to strip down to the essential.
Strip down! That's what I need to do right now. I sweat far more than I should at the machine prison/gym and now my sweat is turning me into a cold prisoner. What is this prison theme I have going on? Must be all of the Dateline episodes I watch. I. Watch. So. Many. Anyway, strip down and take a shower already, Meg. And while you're at it, make a promise to yourself that you won't write online anymore about how you need to strip down and take a shower. People don't need to know everything.
Will write later. Must go outside. Must conquer the world because I suddenly feel invincible due to rest and iron supplements and Powerade. And Alexie's short stories. And rain clouds and one hundred Selfies and the Four Noble Truths and the possibility of Bulgaria and the long lasting relationship of Uncle Jesse and Aunt Becky. Ciao.
No comments:
Post a Comment