

Figures. I write about the wonder of food, go home, and experience my first ever bout of food poisoning. Here’s to new experiences. May some never repeat.

I hate being sick.
My bride and I have been alternating back and forth for the last week or so fighting some bug. Everyone around us is also getting sick. Finally thought I’d beaten it over the weekend–and then Monday night hit and it’s been downhill from there. Knock on wood we’re both on the mend.

Feeling a bit frustrated with my authorship today. Revising my manuscript is simultaneously rewarding, because I can tell that every change I’m making is an improvement, but also excruciating because it is taking so much longer than I meant for it to. So today’s poem is venting my love and frustration for and with my vocation.

Ever read a book or watch a movie and an explanation is given for something that makes absolutely no sense? That is to say, the explanation is simply flat out weak or stupid. In fact, if the explanation had not been given, the issue that it was trying to explain away in the first place wouldn’t even be an issue. You’d glide right past it, happily immersed in the world of the story. Then this happens, and you start to think, and the holes open up.
Sometimes things are better left alone and the world created in the hearts and minds of creator and viewer alike simply allowed to be.

I put the final words down on my latest manuscript last week and thought I could get all of my revisions ready for my copy editor by the end of the weekend. Boy was I wrong! Got me thinking about expectations and the way the last part of any journey or process is always the most difficult. For me anyway. Anyone else find that to be true? Getting started, that’s easy. Following through? I’m getting better.

If you are a creative and you have not read The War of Art, I highly encourage you to do so. The author speaks of the enemy of creatives and calls it “resistance.” I was thinking on it today as I push myself to create more and more works.

There is nothing so frustrating as being presented with the opportunity to do what you love, to create something amazing, and finding yourself distracted or frustrated at every turn by countless little things that build up and go wrong until you finally just want to explode. Did not get done everything I wanted to today and pouring my frustration out here. Melodramatic? Probably. Mildly beneficial? Oh yes. Now, if only I didn’t feel like this poem is terrible. Oh well, revisit and revise, right?

Didn’t get the chance to write before heading out this morning so another poem squeezed in during today’s activities. Feeling a little frustrated with myself and poured that into today’s work.
