There's No Place Like Home

I’m thinking…

My thoughts are, at the moment, focused with some slight frustration at the header to this page. For some reason the font I have chosen isn’t looking right to me this morning. Which is quite ridiculous, I know. I often use this font without a thought of its uninteresting qualities. In fact, it is because it is the most uninteresting, staid, font that I choose it. Often having a rather boring font helps me to focus away from the appearance of the type to the actual words that I am typing. I am easily distracted, I know.

You ask why I am not instantly switching fonts if it is a feature of frustration to me? Well, you see, I’m trying to be a good little writer and not so easily distracted. I know that the instant I start critiquing the font I shall feel that the words I have thus far written are all wrong and that I should fiddle with commas and sentence flow and in the end I shall never get anything written at all.

I was thinking the other day of different places you could go to write; coffee shops and libraries and parks. I would rather like going to a coffee shop to write I think. There is something about the smell of coffee flouting around on the air that simply asks for words, words already written by someone, or words asking to be written down by you.

The funny thing about writing in places like those is that the attraction is also the drawback. What I mean of course is being out and about amongst people.

On the one hand there’s nothing that sparks inspiration so much as “people watching.” Just sitting in your chair watching the people go by, wondering who they are and what they are like. Story ideas just seem to come from nowhere and suddenly you are writing out thoughts that have been in the back of your mind for years and years but you’ve never yet put them into words.

Then again on the other hand there’s nothing so distracting. You think of those moments when you are trying to read, say in the library, and you desperately wish to get back to the lovely scene in your book, but you just can’t focus. That happens to me all of the time in the library. I end up sitting back in my chair and staring dazedly around the bookshelves thinking thoughts of great weight, or perhaps no weight at all.

I think, really, there is no place to write like home. No place where you can settle down properly with your inspiration and make something of it. My favorite place to write is of course, my bedroom. I will settle down on the chair in the corner or perched atop my bed and write wildly into the night. The hours slip by like minutes and the light fades from the room. My word document goes from a blank page with a few scattered words to a thing of several thousand words, and I go from being calm and happy to feverish and excited to sleepy and contented.

I suppose those other places are the places you go to when you are looking for inspiration, and home is the place you go to when you wish to make something of that inspiration.

In the end, there’s no place like home.

 

From the kitchen…

The coffee pot just gave its final noise, showing that it was turning off and the coffee was about to begin to grow cold. Of course I had to dash across the wood floor as quick as my feet could scamper to refill my red coffee cup with steaming coffee before it all grew cold. Law of nature, one must always do that when they hear the coffeepot alarm going off.

 
Outside my window…

The first thing my eyes settle upon as I glance out the window are the little baby daisies still all closed up in tight little buds. Is there a proper name for those daisies? I’ve always just called them the “baby daisies” they are the little ones with all of the small white petals just tipped with pink. I like them much  better than the big daisies that you see sometimes. My favorites are these little ones that cluster in the yard in little clumps. I love how they close up in the evening time and open up again as soon as the sunlight hits them. It’s so sweet, as if they are bidding you goodnight and then sleepily waking up in the morning. *beams* and yes, I did make up stories about the little daisy fairies when I was little.

 
I’m wearing…

 A deep blue peasant blouse with white beading all around the neckline, jeans, and black ballet flats.

 
I’m reading…

 I’ve just started reading ‘The Three Musketeers.’ I was going to start that one as soon as I finished reading the Sherlock Holmes but I was distracted by some fairytales by George MacDonald. I didn’t remember how absolutely funny his writing is from when I read it when I was much younger. I remember the ‘Light Princess’ always rather frightened me for some reason. I think it was how well I visualized the prince almost getting drowned and I was at a point close to tears, but dear me, his writing is just hilarious. I was stitches. I suppose it’s the sort of humor that a child doesn’t quite get at first and then when you read it years and years later you are just giggling and chortling with every sentence.

 Quotes that I like today…

 “Sometimes, I feel the past and the future pressing so hard on either side that there’s no room for the present at all.”

Brideshead Revisited- Evelyn Waugh

“It’s all very well to read about sorrows and imagine yourself living through them heroically, but it’s not so nice when you really have them, is it?”

Anne of Green Gables- L. M. Montgomery

 “Isn’t it funny how day by day nothing changes, but when you look back, everything is different.”

-C. S. Lewis

Picture thoughts I’m sharing…