feel no ways (all ways)


something strange happened tonight. I didn’t know it was happening while it was happening, but I somehow managed to seamlessly and mindlessly unblock my write brain.

I have said many, many times – and maybe it jinxed me – that I have been fortunate enough to avoid the feared writer’s block. I wrote an entire book – I can’t say “first novel,” it feels pretentious – in a span of five months, ideas constantly flowing, shaping and reshaping the story. I’ve written whimsy pieces since then, short scary stories and a few travel blogs. But nothing of substance.

Tonight, my relentless question of “why?”-  for literally everything – got the best of me.

I was pouring a cold brew this morning before I knew what my hands were doing, mentally making notes about Mrs. Peach (a future character from a maybe-novel). I randomly found myself at Marshall’s after work, smelling candles for forty-five minutes, attempting to find the perfect scent. I grabbed a fancy-schmance macchiato from the best barista in town on my way home, purposely lingering to avoid getting in my car. I found a podcast to shut my mind up, but I couldn’t silence  Madeleine Peyroux’s voice, crooning in my ear. I “forced” myself to eat left over samosas before I sat down in the chair. I painted my nails, watch some trashy TV, cleaned up the bathroom and neatly organized my clean laundry into a body-pillow. <—— all the things to keep me from sitting down to write this pour-over.

Once I finally realized what was happening, what I was dying to do but didn’t realize I wanted to do it, I began asking myself a series of the questions, in a rather shouty, British voice: Why are we killing each other? Why are we hateful, on purpose? Why do we hang on to shit that’s two or thirteen or twenty-five years old? Why is a celebrity running for PRESIDENT? Why did it take me so long to read Harry Potter? Why are we constantly trying to defend ourselves?

Y’all, I just don’t know. This is really just a free-flow conversation, I want to know what the hell is happening out there? How is it hard to come to some sort of peace, in any given situation? It’s mindbending to think that we’ve managed to digress. I’m genuinely plagued over the well-being of society and where we stand morally as a group and as individuals. I am free-spirited and open-minded and yadda yadda until I can’t see straight, but I’ve really got the blues.

It seems that everyone I talk to is facing some sort of larger-than-life adversity and I just don’t know who to talk to about it. Is there someone I can see or speak to about all this? The thing is, I wouldn’t even know where to begin. Do I start with student loans or the fact that we’re still having an issue with everyone using the same bathroom? Or how about how women treat women and how men treat women and how almost everyone is actually shitty and limited in emotion and honesty?

I promise I’m not flinging myself off an existential bridge or anything, but if we’re technically responsible for our own happiness…WHY THE HELL ARE WE SO HARD ON OURSELVES? ON PURPOSE!!??!!!??? WHY CAN’T WE JUST LOVE EACHOTHER?


Ugh. Okay, I’m sorry. Pen down, I promise. Rant over. More to come in a more cohesive, less (or more) caffeinated frame.

feel no ways