Has writing deleted my sense of humor? When I decided to start doing this, I figured some of what I write about will be funny, and some of it would be introspective. Basically me, on paper. But it’s like the funny is shut down. Like someone draped a big gray cover over top of it. Closed for the season. Thanks for your business. See you next summer.
Which is fine I guess. I like introspective writing. I don’t have a problem with that. I guess I’m just surprised. Maybe disappointed. Introspective writing feels more journalistic and less for an audience, like I’d intended. The funnier stuff writes itself long before my fingers even hit the keys. It’s a box. It fits nicely. If a word is wrong or something doesn’t sound right; I can usually snap it back right away. Clean that up, andddddd done.
But this quiet, voice inside my head writing is like digging through mud. Up the wrists and almost to the elbows in mud. And it’s slowww. And the mud keeps falling back down into the hole. And right now I just face-planted on top of the mud pile. It’s kind of gross. But it’s cool here, down closer to the earth. And if anyone was to happen by and catch me with my forehead stuck to the ground, I’m not even embarrassed, bro. I feel like it’s the perfect expression of where I’m at. I’m at face stuck to the mud. Hi. My name is Lisa and my face is stuck in the mud.
I’m guessing some people get their feet stuck in the mud sometimes right. But your face. Man that’s like as intimate as it gets. If your face is literally embracing the earth’s guts in such a way, you might be an adult. What’s the worst that could happen anyway. I mean mud getting up your nose, right. I’m being serious. Like mud in your mouth or your eyes would be awful, but mud up your nose would be awful AND panic-inducing. Because, breathing.
What if though, I laid down. Fully. In the mud. What, I can shower after. And anyway, it’s IMAGERY. So then would laying down (fully) in the mud mean a). I’ve lost it or, b). I’ve… found it. It’s sticky and thick and you can crumble it or lather it. It’s cool and the sun is kind of leaving me be. You can dig or make mud snowmen, or maybe even bowls like with pottery. I think I’d just want to crumble it; the parts that are kind of drying up on the top, but still moist enough to manipulate. I think those would be my favorite. Once I got past the fact of this whole thing.
But wait what is it about the concept of the mud face-plant that doesn’t actually feel all that unusual? Have I been here before? Is it possible I’ve actually been here my whole life? And is it also possible it’s actually becoming this really engaging metaphor for feeling life?
Is anyone else forehead down in the mud with me? Come on. It’s actually not so bad. We’ll make mud snowmen and make sure to keep it out of our noses. The sun’s still up, albeit on our backs.
Let’s go #teammud #adultmoments #okaydontleavemeherebymyself