Random Thoughts

Challenging myself to write.

I need a better schedule. Closer to writing everyday. Can’t wait for inspiration. This quotation is what I want to do right now, “What on earth could be more luxurious than a sofa, a book, and a cup of coffee?” — Anthony Trollope, The Warden, or maybe a cup of tea. First I am going to write something then I am going to reward myself with my book and some sort of treat (coffee, cappuccino, hot chocolate or tea). I feel writing is like that Dorothy Parker quote, “I hate writing, I love having written.” I don’t hate writing. I think I hate the struggle of trying to write something other than nothing. I’m not taking about work writing. That is different. I guess at least I’m writing.

I have a chip in my cup, which now makes it mine. No other cup that looks like mine will ever blend. I will look at it and I will know it is my cup because what are the odds that the same cup will have the same chip in the same place. I have no idea how the chip got there. It could have happened while washing, maybe when it went onto the drain board or maybe when it was stored back into the cabinet. But it is mine. I have very few mugs with imperfections but I like the ones with chips the best. Perfect tries to look like all the others. Perfect messes up, creates a chip, feel shame and find it hard to shake the imperfection away. Some flaws do shake away. Like a wrinkle on a shirt from the laundry. Hang up the piece of clothing and it will fall away with time. Some mistakes fall away. Some stay. The chip in my cup will stay and it is damaged and it is perfect. It doesn’t apologizes. It sits there for all that use it to see it. It can now be passed down because it is special.

Like a scar. Clique but true. Men have the right idea. They embrace their scars because they are men. Scars makes them tough. Women hide scars. Try to remove them. Rub them away. Cover them. With shirts, pants, or excuses. My favorite is the tattoo. Cover your scar with a tattoo that represents that scar. Can’t the scar represent itself.

I want a Dunkin’ Donuts coffee but don’t know of any D&D open this late. Sunday night everything has been closed all day or closed early. Should I really have a coffee this late? I keep thinking about my bitter coffee as I change it to some french or Irish flavor. Sweeten it up with tons of sugar. If it’s ice, let the sugar grind and crunch between my teeth. If it’s hot, burn my tongue to leave me with a sandpaper feeling. 

Coffee will most likely keep me up. In all reality I don’t have to worry about coffee keeping me awake since I stay awake without any help from coffee or any other type of caffeine.

Maybe I only want this cup of coffee just to have an excuse to leave the house. I could just leave without an excuse, with no destination. No destination doesn’t appeal to me tonight. Even the person who runs away has an idea where their next step will be.

In the middle of autumn, the cold weather has set in. It makes it hard to leave the house. Comfortable bundled up snuggling with the covers. Don’t want the wind trying to find the bare spots I missed covering with clothing.

I could stay in and have relaxing de-caffeined tea. The coffee can have it’s turn grabbing me out of bed tomorrow fighting away the sleepy night dreams.