I don’t have it in
I don’t have it in me today, the energy to sit down and write. We’ve started a little virtual writing group over at the Central Booking forums and the goal is to write 30 minutes a day, no exceptions. Doesn’t matter if it’s a novel, poetry, letter to mama or complete gibberish (the area we’re visiting now). The idea is to instill in each of us a job-like discipline in writing, with hopes of shaking free from the self-criticism and doubt that often comes with it. If writing is an elementary to your day as brushing your teeth, how much can you really get worked up about it?
That’s the theory anyway. We’re on day 2 and everyone seems to be hanging with it just fine. I had a vague idea of how I wanted to spend my 30 minutes today (beginning an interview I did some time ago with Laura Fraser and just rescued from a corrupt hard drive, 2 or 3 essay ideas I’ve got knocking around) but that’s all going to have to wait. As my mom used to say I’m “too pooped to poop,” exhausted, whipped, flatter than newly-layed pavement. So I’m just going to blither blather here until my 30 minutes is up because it’s about all I can muster right now.
I spent the day participating in a city-wide scavanger hunt organized by some Standford folks my friend Amy knows. It goes something like this: You report to a designated point at noon, get an envelope of clues and try to figure out from them where to go next. At each stop, you have to cycle through all the information you’ve garnered thus far, figure out what it means and where it will send you next until, about 6 hours later, you come to the finish line. Its a treasure hunt for grownups.
Now I didn’t know any of these people and by nature, I’m not a competitive person, so I figured I’d be agreeable dead weight, follow everyone else’s lead and make occasional smart remarks. That plan lasted a few minutes. As soon as we hit our first clue, I was completely swept away, racking my brains, conferring with my teammates, desperately trying to outsmart the game masters. By clue #2, I was a raving lunatic, by the end, catatonic. Solving the puzzles is actually the least taxing thing you do during a hunt. The real shitkicker is the emotional roller coaster you’re on all day, feeling like a genius and a complete moron inside of a minute. Decipher a clue and you’re on top of the world. Get stuck and you’re fly on the dung heap of life. It’s brutal.
So I *yawn* stretch my aching muscles and contemplate bed at 9 pm as if I was a 5th grader. I’m beat but I had a great time. And am already scheming about how to do it again.