Bathed in Thought

I am inspired to write for the first time in a long time. Not by a
lady or a burning topic I’m aching to put out my opinion on, but by
myself. My thoughts and the attitudes and actions I have taken. They
swirl brightly in my quiet evening as I lie in bed waiting to sleep.
So bright that I decided to spill them gratuitously onto the page.

These aren’t the words I was inspired to write. Not yet. Just a
documentation of that which led me there. I had a breakthrough on a
scene that is proving troublesome to rewrite under the paradigm I’ve
set for myself and I’m ecstatic, though perhaps, no. I am happy to be
writing this.

It all began with a shower. Or rather the shower was the catalyst that
put several puzzle pieces together for me. You see, showers are the
one time when I feel most relaxed and my thoughts flow as freely as
the water over my skin and muscle. One might say that the shower is
the only place I ever achieve actual meditation.

I was ill this week and I secluded, squirreled myself away in the
cabin and didn’t bathe for a period of days that is somewhat
embarrassing to admit. Or would be if I were the type to be
embarrassed. I finally bathed today and washed away the grime and funk
and the beast in its den away. I wrote a poem while in the shower,
about the topic. As the lone wolf swirled toward the drain with the
suds, I was born again human.

All the things I have been reading came together beneath the heat and
sensation of the falling water. The poetic phrasing of Anne Rice ‘s
the Wolf Gift mixed with a study of sleep I read and curled up in the
heat to incubate together. My thought processes became poetic,
philosophical, insightful.

On my way home from a movie, I thought about the sentence, There are
no absolutes, until I was happy with my answer.

When tonight came, I thought again of the study I read, the suggestion
that the last things you think about before you sleep are etched into
your unconscious for hours. This has been on my mind at night since I
read it and I have begun trying to change what is on mine. This
matches well so the month I took off from visual media violence, which
is frequently an aspect of my daily life between sci-fi fantasy shows
and video games. In order to come down from the games I played this
evening, I took another shower to relax and warm up.

As I lay in bed, my mind turned toward what I would like to be doing
with my life as opposed to what I am. The results of that line of
thought were satisfying, and passed from one line to another like a
train smoothly switching tracks at a junction. My new rails led me to
thinking about the scene in The West Wind I’m currently rewriting.
Beginning the scene at the end and having my characters talk about
what happened prior will be a much more satisfying approach than
trying to have them live every moment of it. The scene I was
describing wasn’t that important and I was struggling with it.

Of course, this meant I was too awake to sleep, so I chose to write
instead, and happily so.

I have come to a few conclusions that I hope to follow in the hopes of
creating a happier situation for myself:
Shower at night, every night to take the pressure off the mornings and
set my body and mind into a warm, relaxed state for sleep.
Look into massage school. I truly want to be a Renaissance Man. For
me, that includes making a living. Massage may be one of the
professions I could do to round out my list.
Look into teaching dance more seriously. Find out how much Zach
charges for Wedding Choreography in Spokane and charge less. Find a
space to teach in.
Write. Write more. Finish The West Wind. Write the Eugenics Inc. short
story. Write the other two novels you know are waiting.

I don’t think I am meant for the corporate world. For one career path
to follow toward extinction. I want to earn my living from my
interests the same way that I am interested in them: with variety.

The variety, I think, will be the key to my success. A basket full of
baskets full of eggs. Just thinking about it, I can feel some tension
leaving. Time to plan the next adventures.

But for now, sleep, half buried by this darling oversized puppy of
mine. She’s a heartthief, fair warning.

Goodnight.

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and the beast in its den away. I wrote a poem while in the shower,
about the topic. As the lone wolf swirled toward the drain with the
suds, I was born again human.

All the things I have been reading came together beneath the heat and
sensation of the falling water. The poetic phrasing of Anne Rice ‘s
the Wolf Gift mixed with a study of sleep I read and curled up in the
heat to incubate together. My thought processes became poetic,
philosophical, insightful.

On my way home from a movie, I thought about the sentence, There are
no absolutes, until I was happy with my answer.

When tonight came, I thought again of the study I read, the suggestion
that the last things you think about before you sleep are etched into
your unconscious for hours. This has been on my mind at night since I
read it and I have begun trying to change what is on mine. This
matches well so the month I took of from visual media violence, which
is frequently an aspect of my daily life between sci-fi fantasy shows
and video games. In order to come down from the games I played this
evening, I took another shower to relax and warm up.

As I lay in bed, my mind turned toward what I would like to be doing<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: rgb(34, 34, 34); font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; “>
with my life as opposed to what I am. The results of that line of
thought were satisfying, and passed from one line to another like a
train smoothly switching tracks at a junction. My new rails led me to
thinking about the scene in The West Wind I’m currently rewriting.
Beginning the scene at the end and having my characters talk about
what happened prior will be a much more satisfying approach than
trying to have them live every moment of it. The scene I was
describing wasn’t that important and I was struggling with it.

Of course, this meant I was too awake to sleep, so I chose to write
instead, and happily so.

I have come to a few conclusions that I hope to follow in the hopes of
creating a happier situation for myself:
Shower at night, every night to take the pressure off the mornings and
set my body and mind into a warm, relaxed state for sleep.
Look into massage school. I truly want to be a Renaissance Man. For
me, that includes making a living. Massage may be one of the
professions I could do to round out my list.
Look into teaching dance more seriously. Find out how much Zach
charges for Wedding Choreography in Spokane and charge less. Find a
space to teach in.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: rgb(34, 34, 34); font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; “>
Write. Write more. Finish The West Wind. Write the Eugenics Inc. short
story. Write the other two novels you know are waiting.

I don’t think I am meant for the corporate world. For one career path
to follow toward extinction. I want to earn my living from my
interests the same way that I am interested in them: with variety.

The variety, I think, will be the key to my success. A basket full of
baskets full of eggs. Just thinking about it, I can feel some tension
leaving. Time to plan the next adventures.

But for now, sleep, half followed by this darling oversized puppy of
mine. She’s a heartthief, fair warning.

Goodnight.