One Less Thing to Observe
What I love, and also not-so-much love, about writing so much is that it forces me to constantly notice what goes on around me. I have to be observant. I have to take notice. I have to remember things. I have to let things hold meaning. This is sometimes tough for me, being a hermit and all. I have to force myself to be in the world, in order to see what's going on there. I often prefer just to sit and watch and let time pass, requiring nothing of myself to passively observe. But I'm learning to enjoy things going on around me, still being an observer, but making sure to observe productively.

I'm often inspired to write and think by things I see and do, and whatever weird or poignant take I have on it. I've commited to this writing thing, that I will make an effort to write at least something here most days out of the week. For the most part, it's not an effort. I really enjoy it, so it's not hard to make myself type out whatever is on my brain. I often find myself 'writing' throughout the day, either thinking through things I want to get on paper, or just finding that my mind wanders into a description of something I later write out as a story or whatever you'd call what I write. I may actually be turning into a writer, which is fun for me. It's kinda something I do all the time now, without making a point to do it. Everything else is becoming a break from that.

I'll even admit that during church, while we are supposed to be silently meditating or praying, sometimes my thoughts stroll over to something I haven't had a chance to write out, yet. Something about the silence and emotion of worshipping in church, well, it seems to be conducive to creativity for me. I know. I'm horrible. Sometimes I have a focus problem. I will ask forgiveness.

I've found that I just can't help but be triggered by things, people, situations around me, all the time. It can seem like nothing, yet I can manage to turn it into something interesting, at least to me. I exaggerate, satirize, dramatize tiny snippets of life into something hopefully worth reading about later. Sometimes I never know when I'm about to see or do something worthy of writing about. But I also have some consistent sources of material. People and places and situations that I know will not fail me for a good story on most occassions.

So yesterday the strangest thing happened. My difficult co-worker was fired. It caught everyone by surprise, especially first thing on a Monday morning. A strange way to start the week, with this new twist in the dynamic of the place where I'm forced to be all day. I am relieved, yet in shock, and trying to be graceful about this unexpected turn of events in my favor, as related to my job.

Now, I'm not completely heartless. And I realize out of all the issues involved in the situation of this co-worker, how it affects me outside of my job is really the least of them all. But still, as I listened to the news of his demise, as the day wore on, and as I begin to let the true weight of his absence henceforth sink in, I realized that I have just lost a major source of good writing material.

Not that I don't have plenty of other sources. And I don't wish for him to return. But still, he was a true gem in the sense of ink for my pen.

See? I was able to find something good about him after all.

C.T.