Alert! Alert! Boring blog ahead.
So today is what I call a ‘proper day off’. I have no pressing schoolwork, no stress, no housework to do and the better part of the day all to myself. Everyone is minding their own business and I am left to do whatever I want to do- whether it be lazing around, painting, writing, world domination or running through the streets naked.
Today I’m just going to write, and maybe paint if I hit a wall. I may even spend a few hours gaming.
This blog is about the very specific bubble I need to be in to be able to do any of these things. These things are like fine dining- rare and to be savoured in perfect settings.
First of all, I need to be in the most comfortable clothes I own. Comfortable can be anything; at one point it was a corset and a long skirt. Right now it’s pink pyjama pants and my Jai’s Transformers shirt. It has ‘CYBERTRON’ plastered across my boobs and Optimus standing on my belly. Ever since I got hold of it, Jai hasn’t been able to wear it because I’ve stolen it for myself. My comfort has to do with wearing whatever suits what’s going on in my mind. Whatever I feel matches inside to outside.
Comfortable also has to do with the temperature. Right now it’s a little too warm, so I’ll be turning on the fan until someone turns on the AC. I don’t like the fan being on because it distracts me from what I’m doing and, in the case of paint, dries the canvas.
Next on my list of things needed is music. Like comfort, this has much to do with my headspace. Usually there’s some Florence and the Machine, maybe some Dead Can Dance, even Nine Inch Nails. Right now there’s some POD and Ray Charles singing ‘Hit the Road Jack’.
Writing fuel is tuna and tea. Without one or both of these things, there’s no writing. Try as I might, I just sit there and stare at my empty screen feeling increasingly frustrated. You can generally tell how well the writing is going by the number of tuna cans or other food-related things are piled up beside where I’m working (usually the couch or my bed) and the quality of writing by the different numbers of tea cups. If my writing is going well, I use a new cup, because I don’t have the time to wash out my previous cup or I forget to bring it to the bench. If it’s not going well, I have the time and the distraction to not only use the same cup, but rinse it, and make myself a sandwich at the same time.
Switching to coffee is usually the sign that I’m either about to explode or go on a writing spree, and the people in this house have learned to keep their distance when this happens.
Painting fuel is anything liquid and nothing food-related, except for soup. The trouble with painting is that I have everything spread around me, and a lot of those things are somewhat poisonous liquids. I’ve had multiple accidents where someone has put my cup somewhere other than where I’ve mentally mapped it (usually about an inch away from my jar of turps) and I’ve almost drunk cleaning agents.
After that, it’s all automatic. I disappear for minutes or hours. I’m slow to respond, slow to comprehend and irritable if forced out of my working state for any reason.
There you have it, the state of mind I’ll be in for most of today. Wish me luck, eh?