I committed to writing 3000-5000 words for every day in April. I’ve done fairly well up until today. **Heavy sigh**
I feel whiney and distracted today. The quarantine measures taken against Covid-19 are now old and boring. I know its necessary and is saving lives, but ugh–the freedom to roam has never felt so elusive. Don’t get me wrong–I love being home. I love being alone BUT I want to do it on MY terms.
I want to have the power of choice–to maybe grab my laptop and go sit in Starbucks so I can sip on a non-fat chai latte. To meet up with writer friends and feed off the creative energy. I want to curl up on the couch and write but now everyone is home 24/7. All of a sudden I want to write poetry and lament about days past.
I sleep too much. I eat too much. I watch too much *stuff*. I listen to too much Covid-19 news. I feel bad because we have so much and are blessed (and here I am whining) yet so many are suffering.
I want to go for a walk–but not right now. I want to drink–but not right now. I want chocolate–but not right now. I want to find inspiration to continue with my April writing goals–I want that now.
It’s funny because I always thought isolation would mean inspiration, but I was wrong. Perhaps on my own terms things might be different, but as the world turns, I’m at home by government directive. Every day, I’m grateful to be in Canada–my home. But no matter what, orders to stay home still feel surreal, fantastical, and unnatural.
What it comes down to is that I’m craving normalcy–
and, I’m not sure it’s coming anytime soon.
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