Instinctively, We Know That Writing Has Power
And sometimes we take the time to explore its weird realities.
It’s Sunday, half-past ten in the morning. What I thought was going to take me at least until noon is already done. I got up late, cooked breakfast, read the newspaper, checked my email, watched CNN morning news, and role-played tomorrow’s job interview with Rockline. All that — it’s done.
I added a backyard visit, where a hot, sweaty summer day was bearable for half an hour. At least a dose of vitamin D for good health.
And there are two figs waiting to be harvested tomorrow.
Today could be a writing day. I’m already done reading the new articles in Pocket’s list, and the National Geographic magazine I’m going to leave for night reading. Something that’s not on a digital screen — its blue light cracks the brain into believing it’s daytime instead of bedtime. No e-book awaits for me, the Kindle is full of past pleasures.
Should I write as an exercise? To publish? For the love of habit? Or for the pleasure of doing it? I lean towards pleasure and I know why. It’s because of Sunday, and tasks aren’t compatible with a day of rest. Publishing requires hard work, something that Sunday dislikes. What’s left, pleasure, is to be the root cause so I can justify publishing…
