SquarePeg Books

As you read this, know that I am bombed out of my gourd, right now. Surgery recovery has some.serious.painkillers with side-effects I’m not thrilled about. I’m not sure this post will make sense, but here we are.

I talk to.myself. A lot. When people walk in on me  while my discussion with my invisible friends is taking place, I joke that I’m talking to myself because I’m the only one who listens. They chuckle, or nod their heads, and move on with life. Joe being Joe.

Except…

The little joke I make isn’t funny to me. It’s a reality that I learned a long time ago: no one cares about your ideas–what they care about is you taking their ideas to heart. They interrupt, talk over you, dismiss your thoughts to champion their own. They might encourage me to write, but generally when they do, it’s because they want me to write their ideas, because they have the good concept, while mine is just “meh.”

After I’m recovered “enough” to drive, I will be out of state for a week. Out of that week, I will be alone for 72-96 hours.

I will be able to talk to myself with abandon. No censors. No filters. No embarrassing moments when someone walks in on me. No forbidden subjects, no schedule other than my own. No one else to entertain, to please, to dance for, except for me.

I’m hoping I will be able to get enough out of my system that writing can occur. Will occur.

I suppose we’ll see what happens.