What on earth to write now
The boredom of contentment
I try to write every day.
It’s the least I can do to keep up the promise to myself that I am a writer and will be a writer of books one day.
So, each morning,
while I refuse to edit my book,
and the longer I put it off, the harder it will be to get back into it,
-just a little reminder-,
I am sitting down in front of my laptop to write a short blog post about things I am pondering about.
But today it is very hard to find out what is going on inside of me.
Maybe it is because my body is still too tired.
We are in our final rehearsals, tomorrow is opening night, which means that I get home around midnight every day, then I eat, then I have to wait for a little while to allow the food to settle, and by the time I get to bed, it is around 2.
I know this is bad for my circadian rhythm, but I cannot act in a fed state, so this is the way things need to be until Monday.
It feels as if I cannot hear myself today.
I am exhausted but content, I feel lucky about my life, I like my role, my fellow actors and my director.
And that feels rather boring.
It is more interesting to write about something that is bothering me in some way.
I am bothered that there is nothing that is bothering me.
I listened to podcasts while in the shower and doing the dishes, but nothing triggered me.
Outside it is reasonably warm, not sunny but not rainy either.
The wasps’ nest that I protected in the upper corner of my window seems to be deserted after all.
I will go for a walk, then read a bit and catch up on sleep for tonight’s final rehearsal.
Sorry for being boring.
Have a lovely day.
At least I wrote something.
written by me at writersblog
