Grasshoppers and procrastination

February 16 by

Grasshoppers and procrastination

There are a lot of thing I want to be writing about, but I can’t. Or rather, could… but I don’t.

Life keeps being life.

And I know there are a lot of people who would love the life I’ve been given. I don’t take that for granted.  I’m comfortable, I have food, family, shelter.

But I have all these ideas in my brain, and they won’t get onto the paper. I wish thinking them were enough. I wish my brain had a transcriptionist. (Although it’s good that’s not a real thing, because if all of our thoughts were known and provable, we’d all be in prison.)

For example.

Right now, I’m sitting in the gazebo at the Barefoot Farm. I came out here with a drink, my notebook and pen, and my Neo to type on. The house sounds were driving me nuts, the cat was licking my foot (why?!) and I wanted to better concentrate. Thought being out in plain nature would help.

Instead, what’s here?

Someone at the next farm is doing something with a heavy truck. That heavy truck keeps backing up. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. There’s a fly that won’t bugger off, and he really wants to live on my cheek for some reason. There’s a cow a few fields away that makes loud moany sounds right on cue each time I manage to tune the truck out.  There’s something crawling on my shoulder that keeps coming back everytime I brush it off.

A grasshopper just scaled the Mason-jar lanterns in the center of the table. Grasshoppers represent my grandfather to some of us in the family he left behind.

I snapped a picture, and he saw me. He’s nervous. He’s missing a back leg.

A bird could eat him at any moment. His life, even without predator issues, is short and guaranteed to be so.

And I’m sitting here whining about mine.

I’m fighting so hard against the things in my own head – and my own priorities – that I just wrote all these words about why today’s writing session sucks and how miserable it is to be out here in the perfectly temperatured sunshine. I AM writing. Just not the words I care about, apparently.

Why does intending to write a certain thing take the wind out of it for me?  It doesn’t make sense.

Guess I’m just a rebel without a plan.
But I do have a grasshopper.
And some Tennessee sunshine.
And a life.

And I need to remember to use it all before it’s gone.

The sun sets.  Grasshoppers, like grandfathers, die.
My season will come to claim me, too.

I have now.

And I need to quit whining and waiting for perfection.

.

 

grasshoppers and procrastination

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Tracy Lucas

About Tracy Lucas

Tracy Lucas is a writer, editor, and the co-owner of Inkwell Basics. She owns Four Square Creative and Smash Cake Press, and she blogs about writing and publishing at her personal website. She has written and sold more than one hundred and fifty pieces for print, web, radio, and stage.

2 Comments

  1. Eileen O Norman

    I am so glad to have even your grasshopper thoughts. You ARE writing and even sharing it. I love this. No matter what you write about, you do it well. And I not only enjoy it, but am better for having read it.

    Do you know where a one legged waitress works? I HOP. Do you know what an American woman with one leg shorter than the other is called? Eileen.

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