wordless

how do you say speechless when it comes to writing?

the thing i hated most about working was that it cut into my writing time. back when i was bumming around, or even when i was still in school and reviewing for the bar, i used to just whip out my handy dandy notebook and write stuff down. sometimes i made do with bank receipts, parking tickets, grocery tape receipts, table napkins, paper placemats and what have you. i was never without a pen and even waiting in line gave me a chance to put my thoughts into words.

when i started working i found myself getting rusty. i used to be able to just go through the database that is my brain and pick out the exact word or phrase to describe what i was feeling or thinking. stories popped out of the woodwork and the words just flowed.

lately i noticed that the words don't come as easily. i have to sit back and think of that one word that i knew existed but couldn't find. sometimes it would take only seconds. most of the time it takes a host of minutes, or even hours before my brain cooperates.

i miss the spontaneity. i miss writing poems about anything and everything. i miss writing letters just because.

i'm still rusty. i find myself having to read my writing over and over again to make sure i got the tenses right, that the subject-verb agreement was correct, and that i had sentences that flowed into each other smoothly. these used to be second nature. i could write an essay and not have to look at it again, without worrying that things were somehow misplaced.

and the passion flickers. hell i used to write about lizards, zuma, being fat... anything and everything. but now...i always end up saying i'll write about it some other time. i never do.

this blog was created for two things -- to let steam out, and to make sure i kept on writing.

steam got out. but the writing part got stalled every now and then.

maybe it's time for a new notebook. i have about 30 notebooks, some barely half-filled, but filled some nonetheless. maybe it's time for a change.

too many maybes.

maybe this will remind me of how easy it used to be. less than 5 minutes and still my favorite poem of all time:

stinging
as tears roll
sunlight glares
burns
but the chill
stays untouched
in my soul
by the burning rays.