Release the Squirrels

Somehow, the words just flow so much better in the early mornings, fueled by that miraculous first cup of coffee, my mind isn't so much smarter or swifter as focused. All distractions and complications have not yet awoken and I can sit with my computer and it just takes off... a wild, ride... a flood of images in my mind. I see it first and once it is there in my brain, I describe it... I tell it to you.

This morning was one of those mornings, where I could see it sooo clearly. The bedraggled form of my heroine sprawled across the comatose king... And the words were flying from my finger tips onto the screen and I kept eying the little clock in the corner... the deadline for me to put it down and get ready for work ticking closer and closer.

I love the way it feels when I write, the pictures in my head, the words bringing it to life, the click and hum of my finger tips on the keys... It is addictive and so hard to stop. As the last minute fades away, I slam the top of my keyboard down, almost manic with caffeine and creativity. I lunge up from the couch propelled by the knowledge that I have left too many things to the last minute.

I am talking to myself (hey, if you can't talk to yourself, who can you talk to). I ask the air... "I wonder if you can call in "creative"? And laugh at my own joke. I verbally go over the list of things I need to do and what I need to take to work and what I think I want for lunch... jibber jabbering to myself a mile a minute.

And Master calls from the bathroom, "RELEASE THE SQUIRRELS!!!!!"

He is used to this, all stillness and focus nothing but the rattle of fingernails on keys, then boom... yammer yammer blah blah blah... giggle... yammer some more. He is very amused by it. So there it is... "RELEASE THE SQUIRRELS!"

I wonder why when I get home I am drained... I cannot see the pictures so clearly in my head... can't find the words to describe them. Maybe it was the hours spent wiping butts, holding sticky hands, explaining to people the best way to get a nonverbal autistic kid from point A to point B without him imploding or worse exploding. When to push, when not to. It is a delicate dance. I love my job, but it does take a lot out of me.

And now I must gather the last shred of my energy and go make the dinner... Ling Cod fillets grilled outside with Mojo Sauce, grilled corn on the cob, pearl barley salad... maybe cantaloupe for dessert. Yum... just saying it has my creative juices flowing again... maybe I will write something after dinner.