The blinking cursor urges me to write. Its constant beat pushes me to make sense of something. Writing can come easy at times, but on days like today, it’s as hard as putting a tape back into it’s cassette. It’s not because there isn’t anything to say- quite the opposite. My thoughts swirl around in my head in an endless stream of consciousness.
my twins turn 22 today-they aren’t together for their birthday- I hope they are having a good day- I feel like driving to get a new Christmas concoction from Dutch Bros.- the walls in my office are so white- why don’t I make it cozier in here- my beagle is moving her feet in her sleep- I should take her for a walk- why are some cars so loud when they drive by my house- I wonder if it’s cold outside…
The thoughts keep tumbling upon each other in a way that defines landing on one as a story. Save that for my day job as a tech analyst. Ideas and solutions are categorized ad nauseam into waves, quadrants or other confining, imaginary containers. It’s absurd really, in this fluid world filled with movement at all times.
Maybe the reason that processes fail, systems fail, PEOPLE fail is that we are trying to hard to build our own cages. I’m tired of wearing someone else’s script. In that light, today’s mind purge serves a purpose. It is here to remind me that my mind murmurs and unspoken narratives are mere vision fragments. They do not need connection, just space.
Space.
The thing that we all crave but feel incredibly uncomfortable when we have it.
Time.
Never enough according to every busy person I come across.
The whole notion better expressed through prose:
The Soft Collapse of Certainty
We try too hard to name every feeling, to sort every moment into a drawer that closes. Not appreciating all the things popping out at the edges.
We build frameworks to hold what refuses to be held. We chase clarity as if mystery were a flaw.
But some truths arrive without shape. Some stories refuse to end on cue.
There is beauty in the unfinished sentence, in the pause before the answer, in the space where knowing is not the goal.
Let the questions breathe.
Let the edges blur.
Let the compartments collapse into something softer.
Stay open.
Stay unfinished.
A little travel, a little tech, a splash of watercolor—and probably snacks. 