I made another song today. I thought it was rather fun, but don't try to dance to it, you'll look stupid.
On another note, I have realized, as I fumble around these keys that used to seem so familiar, I have been lacking in the word-sentence-paragraph-page-story-production. There are no excuses. I know what I have been doing. I haven't been me. I have come to grips with the fact that I think differently than everyone else. My brain works in narration. I describe, react and re-describe. My voice never ends. I tried to explain what that means, voice, to a student. It was difficult because how can you explain something that is unique to you. Something that holds a meaning that no one can touch. We see it in words, hear it, never think about tasting or smelling it, but to feel it, we have. We have held it to ourselves, showed it to the world and watched dominoes collide. I have thought about trying to write three thousand words a day. That would ensure well over a million a year. I don't have the time, nor do I think it wise to write without substance behind it. Without that feeling that makes the voice, we are mute. The creases under my shoulders are sweating and my heart rate ascends. It's the words that are rushing inside of me, their temper building because my fingers are out of practice, going to slowly and making mistakes. I breathe and hear what they are really about. They are thank you's and praise. To them, I'm like the soldier mounting up for one last ride. They want to witness, good or bad, what comes, what goes, and what is. More will come, but not today. I am an unprepared swimmer just taking a lap, testing the water and finding it fine. As I look back and see the few ripples I left behind, I smile. I'll be back tomorrow, and with stronger lungs to give my voice a workout.