sometimes, always, never

View Original

// Sunday //

It's Sunday afternoon. We're supposed to be grilling with friends tonight but it's pouring. The rain is coming down in steady sheets outside our front window, creating the perfect rhythm for the bright green trees to dance for us. We've moved the picnic inside for the evening, so I'm blogging on the floor amid pillows and Christmas lights and an outdoor candle. 

I blogged for tomorrow already - it was the last thing I did Friday afternoon before I shut down for the weekend. For Chris' 30th birthday weekend, in fact! But SquareSpace didn't save the post, which happens from time to time. And each time I kind of want to cry and wish someone was there to commiserate with me. It was a really good post! I want to whine.

As I lie on the striped blankets, listening to Sam Cooke while acorn squash roasts in the oven, everything feels cozy in our house. It's a little too warm in here, because, even though it's an April shower, it's humid as August outside. 

I don't want to blog today. I don't have a lot to say and we still have a good bit to do before we start the week. Also, I aim to stay off of the computer during the weekends. But there's no post for tomorrow and I try my best to keep a Monday, Wednesday, Friday schedule. I debated turning on Big Little Lies and packing for Robyn's wedding instead.

Then I thought about writing and discipline. Somebody once told me that, as a writer, it's good to start a blog simply for the discipline. It creates a routine, forcing you to push through writer's block and busyness. It forces you to sit down and say something, on days when it feels like there isn't much to say at all.

I know myself well enough to know that good writing comes from white space and paying attention. When I'm too attached to my email and texts, reading through them while I'm walking down the street and in the line at the grocery store, I miss things. Paying attention keeps our brain awake, it keeps our thoughts relevant and writing alive. So maybe, lately I haven't been paying attention enough. Maybe I've been too distracted with tasks and planning and general doing. Maybe I need a little more quiet and stillness. 

So that's why I'm here, lying on our living room floor, writing away about our Sunday and the fact that, mostly, I have nothing to say.