I Don't Feel Like Writing  Today

When you don't feel like doing anything, don't do anything, definitely don't write about it

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A man with a pen in his hand sitting at a desk staring out the window

Created in Midjourney

Is there a fourth wall in writing that you’re not supposed to break by talking directly to your readers? Today I don’t feel like writing, so instead I’m just going to interrupt your day and talk to you, apologies for the lack of manners.

I walked into a yoga session this morning and when my instructor Vicky asked me how I was feeling, I said “Better I think. Yesterday was a blah day.”

Our yoga sessions are more like talk therapy than anything resembling actual exercise. She’s tried to get me to bend parts of my body before and all it does is make me complain to my wife, to my Uber driver, and a few days later to my yoga instructor again, that “My unbendy bending body parts hurt and could we please not do that again?”

So instead we dove into the subject. “Why was yesterday a blah day Sanjay?” asked Vicky.

I realized as I began to explain my blahs that it was actually a pretty good day. I caught up on a lot of emails I’d been ignoring because I was partying in Miami for four days. I had a great two hour lunch with a friend I hadn’t seen in a decade. I had a nap. And to cap it off my son’s hockey team won a game and I had some great conversations at the rink with other parents.

Why did I think it was a blah day?

It was blah because I was tired, because coffee wasn’t helping, and because I couldn’t write. Wait. What?

I had sat down for an hour trying to complete an article I’d started last week about telling people to f̶u̶c̶k̶ ̶r̶i̶g̶h̶t̶ ̶o̶f̶f̶ go to hell. I couldn’t do it. It would appear that I didn’t want to tell anybody to f̶u̶c̶k̶ ̶r̶i̶g̶h̶t̶ ̶o̶f̶f̶ go to hell in that moment.

I wasn’t in the mood to write about something I started to write about a whole week ago because, well, I wasn’t in the mood.

We never do anything because we think we should, we only ever do anything because we feel like it.

What I felt like writing about was being trapped coming back from Miami in the middle seat of a discount air carrier on a flight delayed for no particular reason, where I gave my iPad to my wife so she could watch a movie and then I couldn’t get the inflight internet working on my phone to while away the time reading Medium articles, so I was bored and nobody respects that the guy in the middle seat should get both armrests so I was scrunched up in the middle seat, occasionally falling asleep and drooling on myself.

That’s what I wanted to write about, but it didn’t occur to me at the time, so I wrote nothing, and certainly nothing about telling people to f̶u̶c̶k̶ ̶r̶i̶g̶h̶t̶ ̶o̶f̶f̶ go to hell, even though ironically that’s what I had wanted to do to the staff, my fellow passengers, and people who tell me to bend parts of my body that other people can bend, but I can’t because of a congenital condition called ‘I’d rather just lie here and wheeze while talking about my feelings’.

I also wrote a rather nice article a few days ago about my son’s hockey team that lots of people read, liked, and commented on, and in my current mood I don’t think I’m capable of writing anything people are actually going to like as much as they liked that, so I don’t feel like writing anything at all.

I’m having an off day. It’s because I spent four days in Miami drinking, going to amazing restaurants and socializing with friends, so there’s no reason to feel sorry for me, but thank you for the kind thoughts. If you’re having an off day, then take a break and soak up the thoughts I’m beaming to you right now saying “slow down, take it easy, this feeling will pass, try not to disturb other people by telling them how you’re feeling.”

I’m doing the critical stuff. Answering emails that allow other people to get on with their work. Driving my kids to school and sporting events. Meeting friends and colleagues for lunches, because my mission nowadays is ‘More, Better Relationships’.

I’m avoiding writing in my journal. Avoiding writing on on Medium and in my newsletter. Can’t be bothered cleaning my desk or going through the mail. I should buy a case for the iPhone I keep dropping and that finally shattered its back glass cover and is all kind of splinty, but I haven’t done that either.

Next weekend I’m back in Miami, on a proper airline this time where they serve tequila with soda and lime if I’m in a mood, and I can have two armrests all to myself because they have a proper business class. Maybe I just feel low now because of the highs I’m bracketed with. The highs aren’t highs unless there are lows, right? Alright, that feels a bit better. This lack of writing motivation stems from all the highs in my life that wouldn’t be highs if it wasn’t for the lows. I think I can accept that.

Apologies for not writing. I’ll write something soon.

  1. A more interesting article involving Las Vegas and Private Jets

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