Write to Right

I've noticed a trend when I'm writing in my journal each night. I started the process almost two months ago with a commitment to myself to write for approximately 10 minutes each night before bed. It was my baby steps approach to morning pages.

While I've yet to write 3 pages each day as Julia Cameron suggests is critical to the writing process and I certainly don't manage to write first thing in the morning, I've learned to be consistent in finding time each day to write. I've never managed to keep a writing discipline going that long before. I generally last a week or two at most, that's assuming I've even made it to day two.

Much of my scribblings has related to the whole process of writing and taking this creative writing course. It's not very original. It's certainly not grammatically correct. I have noticed one thing though. It happens quite often that when I plan to write the word "write" I often start writing the word "right". It's not that I don't know how to spell. It feels much more important than that.

A dear friend has reminded me for years that I need to write, that it's part of what makes me tick. She's right. I feel more centered and grounded than I've felt in ages since I began this writing process. It's not just about writing words on a page ... or a screen. It's about righting my world, not in the big picture, but in the small picture that is my life.

She was right, my world makes much more sense to me when I write. Whatever comes of the jottings that have been happening over the last couple of months. I've learned a valuable lesson. Writing is part of who I am. It's not something I should do when the mood strikes. It's something I need to do for me because writing is right in my world.

The act of putting pen to paper encourages pause for thought,
this in turn makes us think more deeply about life,
which helps us regain our equilibrium.

Norbet Platt

Fine Dining???

I watched the woman as she looked around with disdain. All the tables were dirty. The last occupants' litter had been neglected and no staff member had been around to put it in the trash or wipe the table.

She retrieved a serviette, wiped the table vigorously with the serviette held tightly between two fingers. She was clearly more concerned with not touching the table than the apparently not self-evident fact that the table could be more thorough cleaned if a greater percentage of digits where involved in the process. Her left hand held her sleeve pulled part of the up her arm away from whatever mysterious substance might be lurking on the table.

She declared it to be clean enough. Her mother and daughter got settled while she flung the offending serviette in the nearby trash can.

Moments later I felt the urge to burst out in song as the lyrics of a certain Alanis Morissette song pop into my head.

How ironic. When the woman finally sat down at the table, she hung her coat on the back of her chair. Now, the very same sleeve that was so carefully held away from the table top is dragging completely ignored on the floor underneath her chair.

It's not like you really expect fine dining at the McDonald's at Douglas and View, is it?

"The great thing about irony is that it splits things apart,
gets up above them so we can see
the flaws and hypocrisies and duplicates."

David Foster Wallace