After a long, beautiful beach vacation, I returned home and instantly got sick. It could have been something I caught on the plane, or perhaps the ruthless, murderous cottonwood trees raining on us all like fire causing my allergies to go out of control. Regardless, I have been sick for about a week, meaning that I am behind on all sorts of things like cleaning and writing and generally being a functioning human.
Tobias is golfing this morning, which left me with the perfect opportunity to pick-up around our place, do some yoga, and finalize/submit an essay I have been working on. Except I am tired and was initially planning on binging Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. as soon as he left - until he cheerfully was like, "Have a great day writing!", leaving me feeling guilty.
However, it was the ignorant, blind optimism I needed. My boyfriend thinks that when I am alone, I plug away, sweating and swearing, pouring my heart and blood upon the keyboard. When in reality, I usually I do some writing, some research, notice a spot on the wall, spend the next few minutes wondering if it is actually a spider or not, go to the bathroom, confirm that the spot is actually just a spot but then later notice it looks like it is moving and how is that possible and what is happening and maybe I should just take a nap.
For this post, I decided to share a thing remembered, and a thing learned.
A Thing Remembered
As I was scrolling through Twitter the other day, I found a thread of tweets from writer Chuck Wendig. The whole thread was entertaining and valuable, reminding me that writing and creating is more than just the physical process. You have to explore, learn, and live. Talk to actual people, do things, go out into the world. All of this contributes to the words you put on the page.
Other advice from the thread that really spoke to me:
"Part of the creative process too is carving out time AND the space to write, and then protecting that time and space vigorously."
"With that time and space, you grant yourself the ability to find your own voice. Not a brand, not a platform, but who you are. What you write. What you care about. Your voice is the one thing that marks you as a writer, the one original thing."
Thanks, Chuck Wendig.
A Thing Learned
Well actually, there are two things.
First of all, I recently found out that Chuck Norris was born in 1940. NINE-TEEN FOR-TEE! Chuck Norris was a baby during the second World War. Chuck Norris is, well, way older than I thought. I grew up watching every episode of Walker, Texas Ranger over and over again, because like Rambo and Rocky, I was told by my father that 'Walker' was a true story. Chuck Norris' birth year is a fact I cannot stop thinking about. 1940. Woo, okay.
I also just realized that I have written about two separate men named Chuck in one blog post.
Now the second thing, and perhaps the most important thing I have ever learned in my life...
There is a local company that uses dogs to humanly get rid of geese from business parking lots.
They pull up in a van, the dogs come out and either herd the geese, or go to the bathroom on the property so the geese will smell their droppings and stay away since they are scared of puppers.
This company has been coming to Tobias' place of work for years, and he has only just now told me about it. It will take years for me to trust him again.
They came yesterday, as Tobias and his coworkers gathered at the window, watching the van pull up and let out two Australian cattle dogs and one PUPPY, who ran around the parking lot, wagging their tails and peeing, then left.
This is my new dream job. Not the going to the bathroom in public to keep the geese away part - although I wouldn't turn it down, but driving around dogs and letting them go potty at businesses all day.
I wasn't quite sure what I wanted to do with my life before, and now I know.
But first, I really should finish that essay. May the Chucks be with you.