2025-09-25_writer's log

i would like to write. and lately i've found that writing has been hard. particularly the type of writing where i sit down with the intention of drafting something for others. i login, i get blocked. what do i talk about? what do i say? what is worth taking up real estate in your inbox? i'm paralyzed.

i am a poet at heart. i eat metaphor. i breathe "its not that deep", it fills my lungs and i exhale. it is.
always.

what do i share? when do i share? what format? what sequence? what frequency?

it's raining right now. it's been raining all day and will continue through the night. it's rained so little this year. it was the first summer where i looked out my door and onto the backyard and saw brown grass instead of luscious green. the neighbor's gardening efforts for nothing- it all dried up before harvest.

is my creativity suffering a drought? i don't think so.
i want to create, i don't feel blocked in that sense. it's in the sharing. in the taking up space. in the asking to be witnessed.
in the not knowing?

"we can swim in all kinds of stuff" ( see: 2025-09-W39 - Weekly Arc)
i just thought of it. so i wrote it. the beauty of writing for me is that it can be fragmented. it doesn't have to be in essay form…
actually, that reminds me.

when i was in high school, my senior year i took AP literature. i did not finish a single essay that year until my final exam. my teacher would get so frustrated with me. "stop focusing so much on the introduction. you waste all your time looking for a perfect metaphor that you run out of time."

ha…
i guess some things never change.
i hadn't realized until just now. the parallels of life truly are something else. it's all cyclical. we will arrive to where we started but we will be changed. i am not the same even if my issue with the essay is. maybe the essay form is the problem. maybe i need to pivot.

you know how much i love a good pivot.

// ella nym 21:26