The Write Mood
Sometimes (read: most of the time), I find it hard to write. Similar to my irrational fears before speaking, writing feels like a very vulnerable exercise that get my stomach in knots. Part impostor syndrome, part fear of making all the grammar mistakes possible, I usually tend to put off writing. But sometimes, just sometimes, it’s easy to write—like right now.
It’s been raining since yesterday, a rare occurrence in Austin. To make matters better, the storm came in with a cold front. It’s a perfect 60 degrees and drizzling. I’m in a sweater, jeans, and boots. I’m sitting at a coffee shop downtown; their large garage doors are open, and drowsy, but happy people keep coming in and looking for a place to curl up with their books, laptops, and each other. I have a cup of coffee—which I’ve managed to chug down, a cup of granola, and my stomach is mostly not in knots. The whirring sounds of the coffee grinders are pleasant and the music is too, so I delay headphones and repeat play of the Monument Valley Soundtrack. Everything feels in sync.
Then, just as quickly, a drill AND a jackhammer both go off near by, almost in perfect unison, and the moment has passed.