How easy it is to write when posture and clarity are the main objectives. Sometimes I wonder why I no longer aimlessly write, then I remember it’s because I don’t force myself to do so. Life is easy when a college professor gives you assignments and deadlines. When you are your own manager and there is no external reward, if anything there are punishments, it’s difficult to keep the fire going. I don’t know if I actually know how I feel lately. I’ve been disconnected from myself and my real feelings as a result of my day job/customer service mentality. “How is your day going?” “Fantastic! What can I get for you?!” When I stop and think about how I feel, I realize I’m not really sure. I’m certainly not fantastic, whatever that means.
I’m obsessed with stains; with both the idea of a stain and it’s connotation as well as a literal accidental lasting mark in a piece of fabric or wood. A stain has a history, a chain of events, a cause to its effect. It’s a mistake, a happenstance, a normally negative occurrence. It creates discoloration, an adverse of harmony, a dissonance of the minor scale. A stain is a mark of use and abuse; a mark of age and misuse. Stains de-value, sometimes it’s cause is a mystery, other times a frantic and devastating mistake.