# 1. Sometimes I wonder if I wrote everyday, would I be so tightly wound up? Would I be a control freak?
#2. I’m sitting in my room, on the floor, eating a brownie with my fingers out of a bowl, with the lights off.
It’s twilight. I opened my curtains, pulled back the blinds, and opened the window. I placed my boxfan on the window sill, plugged it in, and turned it on. First Medium. Then High. I didn’t wan’t all the neighbors to see inside so I turned off the light from my vanity, which is brighter than my floor lamp. I guess 4 bulbs would beat 1 bulb in brightness any day.
That moment, in the twilight, transported me to another place in time. I was a child, living in Newburgh, New York (where I grew up). We didn’t have air conditioning, so in the summer, we had a fan, with a small head that eased air back and forth. The base of it was cream- colored, and the fan part, when spinning at its top speed, was an orange-brown. It was always really dusty.
Nonetheless, we placed that fan in the window, and it would blow moderate amounts of air into our bedroom at night. It never really cooled the room with the humid evening air it brought inside. Still, that moment, where remnants of day faded into night, was bedtime for me when I was a child. It was too light to really go to sleep. But since my moment here in 2011 only lasted fiive minutes until night arrived, must have lasted five minutes in Newburgh too. And instead of savoring the twilight, as a child, I’d fall asleep.
Now back to # 1. I’ve been so wound up and having trouble relaxing. But I haven’t been writing. That “poem” about my “moment” is the first I’ve written when truly 100% inspired in a long time. When inspired writing comes easily. That “moment” made me want to work on my book. That moment made me want to make a commitment to something, to a career choice. I may be moving forward with the teaching thing. Really soon.
I’m having a hard time letting things just be. I still have to finish laundry, and organize my room and do homework and all the other crap I’m obligated to do. And there will always be crap. Always, and it stresses me out. It always stresses me out. I cant just let my room be a mess. I thought getting rid of crap would help it be less messy. Apparently not. Why can’t I let life be messy? and let life be out of control sometimes?
I’m having trouble learning LA style salsa because I won’t relinquish control. I get so absorbed by myself and what is supposed to be happening, I get so short sighted, and I screw up. Salsa class has become a metaphor for my life. I have to give up control to someone else and follow along. That is, go with the flow. It’s so hard.