I think it takes a while to get into the flow of writing on screen again. There’s a sort of expectation that comes with writing on screen. You feel like you need to know what you’re typing. It better not be gibberish and it better have a damn point. It better be in a paragraph with a succinct argument. But what if you don’t know what you’re arguing for? Like right now- what the heck am I typing? I’m typing about the fact that I don’t know what to type. (Sooooo meta) Which I don’t by the way. Know what to type. I really don’t.
Some days… or perhaps, a week? couple of days? What do you call “like 3 days but maybe a fourth day as well” Half-week? Heek? Let’s go with heek. Heek sounds uncomfortable and mundane. Like the sound a disgruntled owl might make. (except owls are fascinating but I think I’m digressing.) Aaaaanyway, some days (see: heeks) feel boring. Everything about them is normal. They’re not happy and joyful and whooping. They’re also not disappointing or saddening, there is no yelling or sobbing on a heek. There is no good news on a heek. There are no exclamations or epiphanies on a heek. A heek is just…a heek. (I would say I’ve said this word so many times it holds no meaning anymore. Except it didn’t hold any meaning to begin with so. Well, sorry heek, you pulled the short end of the stick.)
I’ve been sleeping and eating and studying and rewatching the occasional movie and reading some nondescript well-worn book and nothing has really happened. What I’m saying is it’s been quite heek-y these past few days. Nothing has really happened and at this point, I’m gasping for a breath of something. Let’s see if tomorrow brings a change of pace with it.
(I realise this sounds awfully depressed now that I’ve read it over. I’m not depressed. Or well, I’m only as depressed as anyone who’s bored to tears is. So, safe-levels of depressed. Also I think it’s soon-to-be that time of the month so I’m gonna go ahead and excuse myself for this bout of depressed.)