Daily Prompt: Me Time
What’s your ideal Saturday morning? Are you doing those things this morning? Why not?
My ideal Saturday morning is quiet. So quiet you can hear a pin drop, the clock tick, and the water from the melting icicles on the window frames drip. I can hear the birds outside singing in the trees and hear the squirrels scampering over the snow on the porch. Every now and then the toot from someone’s car horn will waft towards me but it doesn’t disrupt the quiet.
I begin the day by lying in bed after waking, reveling in the quiet and solitude and warmth of my sheets. I’ll slowly rise as the sun climbs higher in the sky. Noon: I wash the sleep out my eyes and change into clothes suitable for the day. I make my way downstairs for breakfast and eat while admiring the handiwork of nature—the snow on the bare trees, the buds on the trees waiting for spring to bloom. After eating, I wash the dishes and pack them away then begin setting up for a day of creative work—whether writing or drawing or simply thinking. It’s a quiet day. An unhurried day. A day spent musing while writing, listening while drawing, sighing while thinking. It’s my perfect Saturday.
Continue reading “In Search of Peace and Solitude in a Noisy World”
Daily Prompt: Pens and Pencils
When was the last time you wrote something substantive — a letter, a story, a journal entry, etc. — by hand? Could you ever imagine returning to a pre-keyboard era?
I fantasize about writing with a pen—never a pencil. Always I would imagine myself sitting by an open window in the summer, inhaling the brine of the ocean down the road from my house (my fantasy house by sea) while writing a short story or a letter to some loved one. It’s a huge window and every now and then a blue jay or sparrow would perch upon its sill and chirrup at me as I write, encouraging me to continue with my thoughts. Whenever I fantasize about writing, it’s always handwriting, not typing.
The physical exertion involved in handwriting makes the act more personal, especially if it’s a letter or a journal entry being written. When I do write with a pen, it’s as if I’m leaving a part of myself on the page along with my thoughts. I think more exertion is required of us when handwriting, which makes the act all the more satisfying when completed. However, since handwriting is more physical, my hands are now out of shape since I do not handwrite often. Now whenever I write with a pen, I can only do so for a few minutes before I have to stop to rest my hand. These days I find it hard to imagine how writers managed to write hundreds of pages for hours by hand back in the day.
Continue reading “Pondering my Handwriting”