I wake my laptop gently, with just the soft pad of my fingertips, coaxing it away from any electronic sheep-dreaming that may have occurred since it went asleep. I swirl my thumb along the trackpad, wiping away a few dust particles. I know how much my laptop appreciates that. As it collects itself, displaying itself to me, I am greeted with the standard protocol: the login screen. I smile. I have gone through the motions enough that this minor routine only allows for myself to get collected. A few deft keystrokes later, I press the return key : Access to all that is me in digital form.
I logged on this evening to write about something. I was going to wax poetic about “returning”, but decided against the metaphysical topic for now. Tonight I shall wax less-poetic about such things as whatever thoughts seem appropriate (or rather more coherent in nature.) … nah!
I really did intend to write about something. It was to be about the reason why I felt like putting to words what has been on my mind as of late. Now that I’m scribing my own thoughts down, it seems trivial. I mean, seriously – when have you ever explained to anyone why you want to write? You just do. So that is what I’m doing – Just writing.
I will say that getting back on the proverbial horse feels fantastic. When thoughts converge with feeling and time meets with music – you can have quite the enjoyable time getting your mind to talk to paper or a screen. I know this is happening to me right now, and it’s amazing.
The music I’m listening to is a collection of game soundtracks that strike many minor chords. These notes resonate with me profoundly. I can not describe exactly why this is so, but I know it is true. I also tend to be in a god mood for writing when I’ve accomplished something else in my life. It could be as simple as finishing a book or the dishes, but the sense of getting shit done does wonders for my creativity. I also know when I should write when the kids are asleep. That is more of a life necessity than a presser of creative juices. One thing is constant these days during my fits of flow: The music must flow as freely as the scribbles or pixels. I tend to set up a general theme or mood to play before I get into the heart of the subject. I ease into my prose with light strokes of airy ambiance and gentle urgings from a set songlist. After I get going, I tab out, change up the playlist accordingly, tab in, and continue with whatever was getting my mind so whirled up in the first place. At the waning stages of my writings, I lean to some long, drawn-out orchestral or electronic piece to wind myself down. Like now.
without so much as a glance,
i smooth my ideas into place
as a potter would her clay.
Thank you for reading.