Oh man, I’m wiped out today. I’ve been working hard, and I can feel it in my eyes and my fingers and my neck. Cramps don’t help, either. Or the bloating. Or the cravings for everything chocolate. I am still up against one more deadline for the week, and I don’t know how I’ll get it done.
This is me trying to write about the real stuff.
This is me trying not to impress you.
It’s harder than you’d think.
I have been doing experiments all summer in letting go, getting messy and spilling open. There’s a page in my sketchbook where I tried intentionally to write as quickly as I could; I even used a brush tip pen instead of my usual uniball. But instead of looking beautiful and messy, the page just looks sloppy and muddy. I’ve been tempted so often to just tear the page right out and pretend it never existed, and I know that’s totally ridiculous. You can’t mess up getting messy, right?