that’s what i do; i blink and i type things

I am at my desk, staring at the blinking cursor in my text editor for what feels like an hour. If I were in a movie, the camera would do that Ferris Bueller’s Day Off thing they did with Cameron in the museum, with his eye and the eye in the painting, but with me and the damn cursor.

It just cheerfully sits there, like, “are you doing to do anything? I can blink all day, my dude. I’ll just be sitting here, blinking and waiting. I wait a lot. And I don’t want to make it weird but you’re always staring right at me and not doing anything and it’s kind of creepy. So are you going to actually write anything? Or — oh, hey! Here we go! WHEEE I’m moving to the right an– oh, you stopped. Okay, that’s fine. I’ll just blink while you — WOOOAHHHH now I’m going backward so fast! Oh I think I’m going to be sick!”

After a couple of dry heaves, it continues: “No, no, just more blinking. Okay. Let me catch my breath for a seco- OH GOD WHY DID YOU SELECT ALL OF THAT TEXT I CAN’T EAT ALL OF THAT!

“Gulp, gulp, gulp, burp.” Exhale, gasp. “Oh god that’s a lot. Okay. Okay. You didn’t like those words, I get it. I don’t judge, but if I’m being honest, I didn’t feel them, either. It’s okay, you’re still figuring out these beats. I’m ready when you are. Blink. Blink.

“Oh, you’re getting up and … okay, you’re dusting the bookshelves. Okay, that’s good. You go ahead and I’ll be here when you get back. Just … just blinking. Just blinking because … that’s what I do. I blink and I type things.”

And so it goes, over and over for most of the day. My bookshelves are fucking SPOTLESS.

If we were still doing this with a typewriter, or a yellow pad, my room would be a paper ball pit. Which actually sounds kind of fun, if I’m being totally honest.

Anyway, this is a long way to go so I have something to post today, and it’s a long way to go to say “I eventually got about 190 words that I may even keep, and that’s good enough for me.”

As my dear friend Will says, Onward!