I AM SURROUNDED BY WORDS.
Words, as in sources. Books stacked everywhere. Articles strewn everywhere. Music pounding in the background. Notes scattered across the floor. Crumpled drafts littered around.
And I’m just trying to write a paper.
I’ve learned three things tonight…
1. Apparently, I don’t do neat. Doesn’t happen. The binder that was supposed to keep me organized is… somewhere. Under that article? Maybe it’s in my backpack. Or under the bed. Or something.
2. I also need to be completely immersed in my source material. I can’t see, hear, smell, breathe anything else. I am the only person in the world, writing my paper on eugenics and the mentally disabled and the way the US still reflects the “heroes” we hold. I am surrounded by words, and my subconscious is finally, finally at peace.
3. I should NOT be writing about writing my paper. Not constructive.
So goodnight, or good morning, or good-something; I’m not really sure what day or hour or anything this is. I’m immersed. And I think I like it, this writing thing.