For once, I jumoed out of bed. No resistance. No complaints. I thought I would be tired but although I was slightly groggy, I managed to drag myself to the other room.
I had gone to bed with ideas swirling through my head, and was actually looking forward to write (a new strange anticipation).
Sat down. Nothing. Saw the clock, promised myself 30 minutes. Tapped out a few words, deleted, tapped few more, deleted some more, tapped few more, glanced at the word count and was dismayed to see a 59 word count and 10 minutes elapsed.
I realized, I was trying to force the words because I want my first work to be about Ziba, but the start is the same. My mom and 2 sisters started Ziba beauty in Little India with a 500 square foot box of a store and a $2000 credit card. I get caught up in describing the initial scene and then nothing. I have to admit to myself that I need a new setting because I have used the same one for so long, it doesn’t even seem real to me.
Worse, my writing time went down. Glanced at clock every 2 minus and instead of 30 minutes, barely managed 15 minutes and compromised by adding another 15 minutes doing this journal.
Still unsure as when I will do the next time. My instinct says to do it twice a day. Once I wake up and once before going to bed, but I suspect that its being vague in order to avoid committing so for now I will commit to myself to write twice a day. Just gotta commit.
What can $2000 buy you? Right now, ti can ge you a nice TV, an amazing laptop, a piece of furniture, maybe even a set of washer/Dryer?
But what if that was all the money you had? Could you make your dreams come alive? Could you ignore the worries of the world even you 3 kids and buy a beauty chair rather than food for the 3 scared kids standing beside you? 3 sets of eyes of varying ages looked at Kundan Sabarwal when she decided to create a new roof for us with 2000 pieces of paper.
We all had the story about the beginning numerous time, but I never considered how brave (and desperate) you have to be to sink the last of your earnings into a dream? How do you construct income with just one chair, 500 sq feet?
I don’t know what keeps me in bed nowadays. Today, I woke up at 7am and instinctively I was like oh hell no, and tried to get back on the dream train, but I had missed the stop. Instead, last nights movie (legendary starring John Cena, yes the wrestling star) played a trailer in my head, and I realized that not many people knew I wrestled in high school. Only for 1 year and I lost every single match, which led me down the path that I also played junior high volleyball but I was on the Junior Varsity team. I had the urge to be part of team sports and had dredged up enough athletic ability to actually make the team but not enough talent to be any sort of meaningful contributor.
There was a particular wrestling match, I remember. I had lost 7 matches, and I was pitted against someone who had 8, had in fact not won any in 2 years (found this out later), and we went the full time and I lost by a decision by 2 points. My closest defeat was to someone who had never won. Telling in some ways of my life for the things I want.
I woke up today and I realized that I want to be married and have kids already. I am 38 years old and divorced, a broken engagement and currently in a 3 plus year relationship to a truly beautiful girl, and I am starting to feel like the old wrestling me. Yet, there was a moment in the movie where at the end, the main character goes against someone 26-0 and manages to lose by 1 point in a decision. Yet the defeat was met with cheers and hugs from the audience because the long-lost brother was the coach who happened to be a wrestling superstar.
Right now, I feel like the lil brother, and my family as the superstar, and preeti my match to lose yet still win in life. A fact that has become more important every day after my recent stroke which made me realize, I don’t want my current life anytime, I want the one I have been dreaming about. Perhaps that’s why my body wont let me sleep anymore. Its’s time to stop dreaming and start acting.
Purposely woke up later even though my body claimed it was far past 8am, yet when I opened my eyes, it was 8:06. Had a bit of rev old from body. Feeling exhausted after writing, feems passion took over the hek]lms for a few days but exhausted me from doing anything else. Not good so I listened to the voices and slept another hour, a restless 60 minutes but still longer than normal. Feeling slightly guilty and devoid of any words. Time passes. Got more sleep but have less words.
Started going through my twitter account, and saw a name from UCLA and suddenly I remembered I had a dream about this person last nigh. He was a heavier than I remembered, outlandish glasses (think from the old movie NERDS) and he was soaking to a classroom while I sat in the corner near the door facing the class. He asked a question, and I raised my hand and everything laughed while an unlit cigarette tried to cover my reddening face.
Hear a bird outsude and watch my dog perk up its ears as hearing a conversation but quiet surrounds us, and no words are formed here or in my life. Oh yea, I forgot to mention, today is my first day back at my house after staying with my parents for 2 weeks and it strikes me that I am much more comfortable there, and more like myself that is why the words come. But I am 38 years old now and really do need to grow up.
Hear an airplane and think to myself, I really do need to clean up around here, and as promised to my girlfriend I would put the hookah away (no more smoking!) and I am well aware that I am digressing, letting the problems of the world take over rather than focusing on the page ahead of me,
Finally, got up and picked up some of the trash as it was bothering me and I realized that the house needs to be in some semblance of lam before I can write. Today, unfortunately was a bust so lets see what tomorrow brings…
woke up abruptly with the assignment on my mind, but had the nagging feeling I was dreaming so tried to reconstruct that movie but mind was a blank. Coyldnt remember if I am supposed to write for 30 minutes or just a full page, but for now ignoring that nagging feeling that I am doing all this wrong and for once just letting the fingers do the talking.
Today was an experiment. Had accidently set the alarm for 8am, and everyday its interruoted me. The old me, would have shut it off and just gone back into the murky darkeness but lately I just stay awake and get up and begin my day. Its been tempting to treat this as a holiday but the fat is, I am itching to begin my new role as a writer, for once I am thrilled to actually so something that I want. oh yea, the experiment, turned off the alamr and went to bed around 2. Eyes opening with the mind anticipating being around 11. Nope, 8:04am blinked back at me. Thoughts tried to convince to lie in bed, that I would be too tired to put down any thoughts. That I needed to put my contacts, that I couldn’t handwrite, and I have never really wrote at this time, so I stayed in bed an additional 10 minutes but sleep was gone only the assignment was on my mind, and a guilt that if I didn’t get up today, I would never get up.
Have decided that I will write the first thing in the morning, I have the luxury of setting my own work schedule and if I can maintain this time and pace in the morning, I will do it. I actually feel quite accomplished when I put in the time, and I want that feeling to continue. It confirms for me that I really am ready to make the transition from my daily life to being a writer, yet I am hesitant to share it with my girlfriend or others, because I want to actually have some meat to share with them. Thats a lie actualy, I still don’t feel like a writer like I used to high school. The fact is, in the 4 years that I hae been with my girlfriend, she has a send a handful of pages of my work, and experience some cutsie poetry that I created for her in a rush in order to be super-romantic. She’s heard I am a good writer, and therein lies the problem. Everyone’s heard but no one’s really seen anything,
Pace is slow definitely slower today, but am also glancing at the clock less. A voice is trying to convince me that its already been 30 minutes but just like before I don’t believe her. I have a feeling I will know for sure when the time elapses. Just to comfort that paranoia, I glance up, and I have 5 minutes left but then I begin to wonder why did I think it 30 minutes and so I try to time travel to when I was doing the reading, but I don’t remember any numbers just the admonition to write in the twilight. Perhaps, the 30 minutes came from me, perhaps I don’t trust myself longer than that. Perhaps, I have compromised with my consciousness to only allow 30 minutes to be devoted to my old love, Perhaps, Time….
