Fingers to Keyboard with Some Editing

I haven't felt the inspiration to write recently. It's not writer's block, per se, just the lack of an overwhelming urge to write. And I usually only write when I am really feeling something. It feels more true and more accurate and it comes out sounding like me instead of some stuffy version of me that has no idea about the first rule of writing. (Sort of like that sentence.)

I want to try that exercise where you write for a certain amount of time without stopping. You have to say whatever you are thinking or feeling and most of all you cannot stop. Even if it means writing the same sentence over and over and over.

I've been trying to take more pictures. Even when I'm not taking pictures, I am just looking at the world from a different perspective; it is very different to imagine looking at objects and people and landscapes through a lense. Different elements become more prominent and others seem to fade into the background. All context is taken away and it leaves a raw image of the one item.

I don't feel like I am at a place where that is what I am able to capture and convey when I take a picture. But I also think that one of the best ways to achieve that ability is to continue trying. So here are my trys:

I recieved this postcard from Locks of Love as a thank you for donating my hair. It was nice to be recognized and know that my hair which I no longer have a use for is going to help a child in need.

(It doesn't help that when I finally sit down to write I want to scream at the computer for its stupidness. Aka, I'm having formatting issues.)

Hands. To be more specific, one hand. My hand. Reminding me of painting. The joys along with the frustrations. The problem with having a painting with no plan is that there is no set idea of when it is finished. I am struggling becaues I can't decide if it needs more or if it is done. I am inclined to think that it needs more because I am not feeling that it is done. It doesn't feel completed. This is great, though. The idea that I can feel a painting.

My creative juices have not abandoned me completely. It's good to go back to the basics, sometimes.

I sit here, not knowing what to type. The problem is I don't know what I want to say. I could say any number of things: the windy, beautiful weather that is beginning to border on too hot, the three tiny firs that my dad and I transplanted over the weekend that are thankfully still alive, the sounds coming from the kitchen as my dad prepares dinner, the feel of Smokey's fur on my legs are she tries to draw me away from my fruitless attempts at writing.

Editing calms me. I know I said that I was going to put fingers to keyboard and just write, which usually doesn't include editing. However, I am allowed to break the rules. I am giving myself that freedom.

With freedom comes homework; I am giving myself the assignment of writing, not necessarily blogging, but just writing.