It’s just passed 5:40 in the morning and my partner just left for drill.
I’m exhausted. And for the past three weeks I’ve had the itch to write, but I haven’t had the time. So, instead of going to back to bed, I poured myself leftover coffee from yesterday and here we are.
I’ve caught myself writing lines of poems in my head a lot lately, and even as I’m writing this, I’m thinking of all the things I want to say. Just to get them out of my head. Just to process. Just because they’d sound lovely paired together.
It’s been months since I’ve written a blog post, and since my contract work has ramped up on the nonprofit side, it means my coaching newsletter has also fallen off. I’m not mad about it though, which is new. In the past, I’ve been frustrated when both slow down or stop. But this is growth. Recognizing and accepting that it’s ok for this to not be the outlet I need as much as it used to be.
A friend of mine owns Queer Haven Books in Columbia. They’re part Soda City Pride Business Network, the queer-business network I started. shamless plug. And they hosted an open mic the other night. I thought about signing up for three days. but I didn’t. I thought about the new poems I could write. I thought about the old ones I could perform. I thought about the rewrites I could do. Then I worked on everything else I had on my to-do list instead.
So after I hit post, I’m going to write a poem. I have lines in my head, and I don’t know how they’ll come out – what order, what they’ll become. But they’ll at least be out of my head. And then I’m going to block off time next week to write, and possibly email my friend to see when the next open mic is.
It’s 5:54 and we all can use a reminder that making time for things we enjoy doesn’t mean hours. it can mean minutes.
