That’s Not Flushing Here

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Photo by Paris Bilal on Unsplash

I believe writing can be both therapeutic and entertaining. It’s magic when it is both at the same time. The reason I say this is that it is through the crap writing that I, the writer, can sometimes push through a sore spot. The writing doesn’t need to be even legible to another person. In fact, as a teenager, I sort of zoned out in study hall, or maybe it was detention, and I wrote shit over and over again to cover an entire page in my notebook. About halfway through, the word became art. It was magical. And a usually dismal mood became something magical for me. I never did it again; it was that powerful. I just realized that the repetition of doing that resulted in a sort of meditative mood.

I wonder what would happen if you did it with the word hope?

I love to take something mundane and make it magical, whether it is for myself or for other people.

Like with what your beliefs are. For instance, what if you believe you are always a failure, so starting something new is automatically going to end up as kaka and not something extraordinary? I know it happens. It’s been me often enough.

Growing up, I can hear the refrain in my head from my father, “You’re a quitter.” The problem, I believe, is that I was forced to undertake his projects rather than…