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…
