Today has been so strangely pleasant. I’m sure things like this only ever happen in the spring (or late winter). My sinuses are still clearing after 4 days of awful congestion, so I feel a bit like a slimy, cowlicked chick fresh out of the egg. I had some time to kill in between jobs so I went to the Bourgeois Pig café by job #2 and got a hot chai and sat in the sun to read. (This was a compromise; the first sunny days of the year always make me crave an iced dirty chai.) I texted a writer friend I’ve been meaning to text for a while and we’re making plans soon. It’s my brother’s birthday today so I sent him a gif. One of the women on the patio near me asked me what I was reading & it was Cartoons in the Suicide Forest by Leza Cantoral. She wrote it down and proceeded to talk with the other woman there about how Patti Smith was one of the freest people on the planet, so it was too hard to keep reading & not eavesdrop. Just before this awful sinus problem, I read that tea is better for creativity than coffee and I’ve drank more tea in the last 4 days than I have in the last few months, at least. I feel very creative and I know it’s for more reasons than that, but one of the other reasons is that I’m embracing my superstitions.
My second job ended at 6 and I was home before 7. I’m learning how to take a break for dinner and then get to work writing. I’m experimenting with juggling lots of different writing projects. I’m trying to find my niche. I wandered away from BoJack Horseman to look for my neon notepad and put the new books I want to review in one stack. I couldn’t find my notepad. I got out my laptop to check (again) if my essay is posted on that website yet, see what kind of shambles my Google Drive/Todoist are in, figure out what I should be working on tonight. I put on the Silversun Pickups album my brother gave me for my birthday (“Swoon”). I Googled my name with various keywords attached because I’m still paranoid about that revenge porn re-surfacing. Instead, I found this blog Emily O’Neill wrote in 2016 after I reviewed her book, which led me to a new essay she wrote, “Where to Begin: A Literacy Narrative.” I love what she says about “the trapdoor to understanding ourselves better in everything we read, how it is our job to locate it and then ask as many questions as possible about how it functions and why,” and I think that this can help me trick myself into writing, just as she was “tricked into teaching.”