Right now, I can’t write.

I started reading Getting Things Done by David Allen because some colleagues mentioned it was a great way to learn time management and organization. I have a giant bag of clothes I don’t wear anymore, ready to be dropped off at the thrift store. I’ve been baking and cooking and otherwise replenishing the well, clearing out the clutter to sharpen my internal focus, but honestly, right now, I can’t write.

I’m not in my own way. I’m not afraid of writing crap and dealing with the painstaking process of self-editing. I’ve got drafts of ideas, starts and little buds needing light and water and air. But I’m waiting. Not procrastinating. Just being.

My Fuzzy Guy

My Fuzzy Guy

Last week, I said goodbye to my trusty companion Joe, who had been with me for almost all of his 16 years of life, starting way back when I was in college and moving with me across the country from one coast to another, to finally settle here, in the middle, in Chicago. Seems like he’s always been here. He’s sat on my chest when he knew I was sad. He’s begged to come on my lap while I worked. He’s chirped for a bite of banana (yes, my dear kitty loved fruit). He’s been presiding over my Twitter page, and I think I’ll keep him there. He makes a wonderful editorial mascot, with his watchful owl eyes.

I’m a little untethered without him, and even though I still have two wonderful cats who fill my days with joy, humor, and a bit of frustration, it is empty here. Empty, as I try and navigate through the days and nights of life going on. I’m lining up some more freelance projects for the next few months, and, if all goes well, my partner and I are about to be first-time homebuyers (the ink on the contract isn’t dry yet, so this serves as an unofficial announcement). So much growth with so much loss.

I thought spring would never come. I was in a rush, I know. Now I just want to stand in place, and wait for this tidal wave of sadness and hope and fear to wash right over me.

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One Response to “Right now, I can’t write.”

  1. […] I made, like buying real estate, or unexpected sadness, like losing some dear feline friends (Joe, and Heinz, too, whom I didn’t post about). I’m not stuffing it all down to repress it, but […]

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