staring at the text-laden screen, my digits itch. anxiously half-tapping rhythms to stimulate precision. perfection. full-presses deconstruct brain drizzle [drivel] in comment tabs. the back and forth of desire – desire to sculpt a flawless piece from this google doc of chaos.
two fingertips flick my mouse pad to scroll through earliest ramblings – the pushed aside thought-beginnings. eyes scan word vomit and first intentions in search of something that sparkles/vibrates/gleams. shoulders hunched. left brow furrowed. the other cocked.
try that word instead. what if we move this idea over here? omit that. insert this.
i stretch my fingers wide, noticing that the keyboard-hover feels like clenching and imagining that my reaching movement might push out some perfect phrase – one that my frontal lobe cannot seem to locate, but my fingers, wrists, elbows, shoulders must know. i roll my shoulders once, three times. extend my neck.
resume my posture of tension. notice the pleasure of adrenaline coursing. my hands move to tangle with my hair to grasp and pull – a technique i used to use on massage clients to relieve facial tension. my face is tense, but stimulating blood flow to the scalp feels like brain-refreshment in these moments of crafting.
more of this. less of that.
a glance to the upper right corner of my screen reminds me of the looming deadline.
agree upon just enough. send.
on days like these, i feel like a writer.