The WordPress Daily Prompt arrives in the evening, in my part of the world. But the Writing 101 task arrives early morning, so I rub the sleep from my overtired eyes and see that a free write has been set up. Ah! How much I love those for they let me ramble on, without having to reign in my thoughts and the topic is to write about how we write.
Wait a minute! Or was that what we write?? My sleep deprived eyes and battle weary brain take in the sight around the house. The weekend has come and gone; lord bless the weekend and a blissful Monday is awakening with a rose tinted sky and the promise of sunshine.
The days have become increasingly cold and I start hunting for my sweater as soon as I get up. Looking for it this morning is an ordeal though. There are clothes, books, toys on every conceivable flat surface making them now, concave or convex. Anything thrown on top of a pile, and especially the laundry pile, comes slithering down. A pick, another throw, another landing and another slithering…
But, Monday mornings are supposed to be good around here. The hangover of the terrible weekend starts dissipating with the first strong cup of coffee, and the hopeful week stretches ahead. Usually, Friday evenings are best of all the week. The anticipation of the supposedly free Saturday and Sunday fuels the book reading at odd hours, the daydreaming of impossible things, the prospect of an instant meal and the expectation of a sleep in. The great feeling lasts till I get up on Saturday, fulfilled by sleep, browsing the newspaper and till the first child gets up. And whines. The mood quickly goes downhill after that. By mid morning of the Saturday, I am already longing for Monday. Less chaotic, more orderly, kids-off-to-school and spouse-to-work bliss. I struggle through Saturday and by Sunday morning, I have stopped trying to keep the house clean and in order. Sunday afternoons bring a little cheer for by then the countdown for the next morning has begun. And the laundry has piled up. And the house has started looking like a warehouse.
Coming back to the question of ‘how I write?’ Well, I write when my kids are making a racket around me. I sneak in a few words in the large and thankfully, somewhat removed from the rest of the house kitchen. Of course, the sauce boils over and the onions are caramelized to a deep brown, approaching the color black and the dough needs to be kneaded more but my mind is with the pen resting on top of the fridge where I surreptitiously scribble a few words. Also, while dressing. No doubt the eyeliner is smudged and the lip colour feathers out and the accessories don’t match, but then I can just ditch the accessories. I am not a fashionista, in any case.
I could go on and on about the how but something made me look at the task for Writing 101 yet again and Oh! Was it really, ‘Why’ I write?? Oh, bother! I cannot really go back to write about the why! The food is already ruined and there is no scope to make it any more unpalatable.
Umm.. because I titled the post ‘Being Ourselves’, I must throw in a few more words saying that writing is what makes us behave just like what we really are inside.