What have I been doing besides writing?
Most days I get up and hang with my roommates for an hour before strapping on my helmet to
dodge cars, pot holes and fleeting green lights. Most days I serve craft beers, artfully constructed cocktails and food that was plated with intention rather than haste.
Some days I have a few too many of those beers after work.
Most days I practice yoga in my living room, run through the park that is two blocks away and most days my run is a struggle but I still get it done so I can learn each street corner, where the drinking fountains are and which city blocks to avoid.
What have I been doing besides writing?
Most days I walk to the Mexican grocery store and dance to the mariachi music as I shop for heads of broccoli and almond milk. Most days I text my friend who lives half a mile away about dinner plans for the evening. Most days I wake up with out an alarm.
Some days I feverishly free write in my journal and read until I fall asleep with glasses on and book smooshed on my face.
What am I doing besides writing?
Most days I think about it while I’m watching some rerun on basic cable. Most days I feel inspired while surfing YouTube clips of Spoken Word and slam poetry. Most days, I have to admit, I don’t try.
Some days I write the perfect poem in my head while dodging rain drops on my bike only to forget them by the time I have pen and paper in my hand. Some days I long for life overseas and the simplicity of it.
Most days I’m trying. Some days I’m losing the battle. Most days, now a days, I’m winning.
What am I doing besides writing? I think I’m finally living.
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