#2

She had been unsuccessful at being creative. This used to be her pride and joy. She could always think of fun things to do and to say. But lately. Lately not so much.

She had taken to following the list that some errant friend had posted on facebook or twitter. It was now the wallpaper on her phone which was getting errant service whilst in Madison and on her desktop at her increasingly unfruitful job.

#1 was to make lists. She was excellent at this. She wasn't so good at following lists, however. But since she was so good at #1, and nothing was stated about following the list to completion, she moved on to #2.

Carry a notebook everywhere.

She had stopped doing this with the procurement of an iPhone. "It has a notes AND a voice memo section!" She'd exclaimed upon learning of all the features. And these were used. And used quite often. But as anyone who fancies themselves a writer will tell you, it's not the same.

It's not the same as finding a pen that will become your favorite. And re-reading everything you wrote last week or month or year and laughing at your ridiculousness, or your neuroticism. So this was going to become second nature, yet again for her. Notebook. And pen.

In the meantime she would continue to go to concerts (Paul McCartney blew her mind, and she was happy to see how much the Smith Westerns had matured since the last time she saw them, even though she did have a soft spot in her heart for studio bands), walk her dogs, pretend to cook, drink coffee and tea (also on the list! but further down) and think about a job that would allow her to start the day on her own schedule: wake up late, go for a run, settle in around noon.

She knew the perfect job would be to be a writer. But she was terrified of this proposition. Mostly cos she felt like she had lost her voice ala Carol Brady in A Very Brady Christmas. But who would ask Santa to bring it back for her? Her bf had, over the course of a month or so, written a PLAY of 140 pages. How this is even possible, she didn't know, but the competitive streak kicked in and she knew, she had to do something about it.

She had things to say! She thought slash hoped.

In the meantime she would work on this notebook thing, improve her posture (and hopefully her pace, this training for a marathon thing was getting to be ridiculous), and just writing, hoping that someday, she would say something important/relevant.