Archives for posts with tag: writing

Why is writing things hard? I sat down to write a short little thing about how I dislike when people call their animals stupid or say mean things to them in a sweet voice. It creeps me out and makes me wonder how they’d treat me if I were even nearly as important to them as their dog.

Instead I wrote the first two sentences a couple times over and every time it sounded preachy and accusatory. Neither of which are good tones for encouraging people to be more compassionate in all their speech or else it’ll happen to them when it matters. Now I am actually writing that idea out and not so much talking about how it’s hard to just sit down and write.

These two things, how you will be better off speaking with compassion to anyone you care about, Homo Sapiens or otherwise, and how writing is hard have nothing to do with each other. Being compassionate has mindfulness integral to it’s practice. Writing is next to impossible to do if you don’t just throw it out there and piece it together later.

That’s why I started with the thought ringing in my head. Why is writing things hard? Now I am writing.

He walks into the coffee shop and walks up to the register. It’s his favorite place in town, all of them. His second home. He barely knows the barista standing there and for a second panics as he looks for the names. He looks around his memories and before he finds them his eye catches a board with skinny modern retro polaroids with people posing as naturally as they can with names scribbled on the grips with a sharpie. Lincoln, that’s his name. He’s seen him before and enjoyed their conversation. The context flowing back he feels guilty for losing that one detail or which name floating in his mind is connected to him and so he has no idea what drink he wants when the small talk runs out and it is time to choose. He goes with a latte and notices Theo walking towards the doors through the giant floor to ceiling glass front of the store.

Now he can’t find his wallet. He keeps looking and looking through the same pockets. Patting himself down like a criminal. Stepping to the side so Theo can order it becomes a battle of friendliness. Just as he says for the other to go ahead he finds his wallet. It only took reaching in the same pocket five times in a row to realize it was a wallet and not a glucometer. He pays for his order a bit quicker than normal. Excited to see friends but nervous and in the way, in his mind.

Sitting at the coffee bar they talk about couches, art, and graduating from college. Eventually they get into a discussion of Old Boy and Youtubers and Sincerity. Can you choose to be sincere? He talks about how he doesn’t believe you can and how listening to Alan Watts influenced most of his thoughts on the topic. Maybe Jesse will take his sofa away though. It’s a good conversation and they part ways.

 

Descriptive writing, changed names because I felt like it.