Purposefully Aimless

I’m having some trouble carving out time for myself and my writing (also known as the lifeline to my sanity) this summer. My kids are home, which is truly wonderful. I love them both to the point that I can sometimes feel it in my chest. That sounds like an expression, an exaggeration. It’s not.

And I am much more comfortable when I’m trying to make you laugh … by writing about Alec Baldwin, my dairy farm shenanigans or even “lady hair.” The trouble is that I’ve been in a bit of an introspective, contemplative state of mind lately. And that just isn’t funny.

But I’m trying.

Tonight, I opened my laptop … at a time when everyone else wasn’t asleep … and attempted a little writing. True. It’s no Woody Allen comedy but it’s something. (Woody Allen? Where did THAT come from? I must be trying to impress you people because honestly I’ve only been exposed to a small portion of the man’s work. What I SHOULD have said was ‘it’s no Will Farrell comedy.’ Let’s call a spade a spade, shall we?)

I’m revisiting an old writing exercise called 100 Word Song. Entrants must offer 100 words “interpreting” the chosen song in any form (poetry, fiction, limericks, cartoons, etc.) This week’s song is Within Me by Lacuna Coil. No, I hadn’t heard of it either. They’re an Italian Goth rock band, which seems oxymoronic to me. Still, it helps to stretch your mind sometimes, right?

Bear with me, friends. I won’t be Eeyore forever.

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Purposefully Aimless

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She pulled a tattered notebook out of her backpack and began scribbling.

Life’s crawling and wasting my days

Never mind that it didn’t work out here. She was leaving. Today. Thumbing it straight through the night to Seattle. With at least two good friends there, she knew she could make a go of it. And she scribbled again.

Another night gone and I know there will be another way

Her poetry reflected her life like a mirror. And she often wondered where she would be if things had been different all those years ago.

I’m leading myself to be free

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