Tag: writer’s block

A Post About Nothing

By hook or crook, I steal the time. Sneak off to a calm, quiet place where I am immediately at ease. I scout out the perfect spot. I locate my favorite musician’s music on my phone to insure a successful writing session. I even get the ear buds in the correct ears.

This is no small feat because locating the minuscule L and R imprinted on the sides is nearly impossible and once I make out a speck that could be an L or an R…maybe…I have to squint at it only to find out that it resembles more of a Q! These troublesome eyes!

After a handful of unsuccessful attempts to force the Q to morph into an L or an R, I reach for my reading glasses, which might or might not help me focus. Unfortunately I quickly realize that I left my glasses at home. Sigh.

I give the Q another go and after I close one eye and tilt my head to the left, I can make out the letter. Sure enough, it’s an R!

I secure the ear buds in the correct ears and turn on my music. I have a few anxious moments as I adjust the volume and test it by taking the ear buds out to ascertain that everything is plugged in properly, and that I’m not sharing my favorite trombone music with everyone who came here hoping to find their own peace, and finally that the music is not loud enough to cause that annoying sound that happens when a person’s music leaks out of their headphones, loud enough to be heard as noise but not loud enough to identify the song.

Finally, I’m ready. I ignore the person directly to my right slowly working her way down the shelves of books coming closer and closer to me. I open my journal, click my pen and stare at the blank page.

It is very bright and very blank except for the lines. Although the pages are actually a pale creamy color, they hurt my eyes.

And I sit here listening to a random cough or a rustling sound as the person behind me shifts in his chair. My music is paused because I saw that a text had come from my sister and I forgot to unpause.

The brightness of this page begins to aggravate my eyes and I find myself squinting to cut down on the glare. I look up at the lighting and silently curse my eyes. And the lights. And my inability to focus.

I find myself shielding my eyes. I sigh again.

I decide that this is not working.

I’m three pages and a half hour in and I haven’t written anything yet.

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