Wasting Time

I’m alone. I’m eating curry. I’m listening to Sam Smith. Loud. I’m sorting papers. I’m remembering my editor Lisa who told me that I need to waste time for new stories to find me. Your co-worker who looks like he is wasting time on the Internet? He has the best story idea.

I like making goals and figuring out how to meet them. Wasting time to find what I want to write about? Ah, yes, lovely goal. My true New Year’s goals look a little different than that, but all of my goals involving making a container to help e achieve my goals.

I’m alone. I’m eating curry. I’m listening to Sam Smith. Loud.

I’m alone for the first time in a long time. For a few hours. I’m trying not to be too productive. I’m kind of working at wasting time. While hoping to have enough time to start writing an essay that I mapped out months ago. About a cut finger and the future, paddle boarding and letting go. I almost don’t want to write it because it’ll help me let go. And all of me wants to hold on tight.

But wasting time before I get to writing with my first free time in a long time? It’s a very productive thing to do.

The curry is delicious. Sam Smith’s voice is nice. Ah, I’m alone. Making a container for what comes next (a la Abigail Thomas, of course).

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