I woke up from a dead sleep to write this. Not because it is important, but because, suddenly, I wanted to write.
It’s been so long.
When I’m not writing, I cook. It satisfies the same need. The last two weeks, I haven’t done any of either. I’m a bit stuck.
Before this, instead of writing, I spent a lot of isolation mastering different rice dishes. Mexican rice. Jeera rice. Sushi rice. Jollof rice. Risotto. A friend called it my rice-olation challenge. I like that.
When I don’t have the words for what I want to say, I sift through my pantry cabinets until I find something that feels right. Tonight I said it with a quarter teaspoon of cardamom in a tiny olive oil cake.
The cake was microwaved into existence because I had a (itty bitty) hip surgery this last Tuesday. It went well. For the sake of recovery, I’m on doctor-ordered bedrest, and though I stretch the boundaries of that definition at every turn, my body still can’t bend down without pain. You can’t use the oven when you can’t bend, so, I adjusted because I really wanted cake.
I’ve had a wild sweettooth lately and I think it’s related to the tests that say my hormones are all over the place. You wouldn’t think it, but brain damage and hormone fluctuations go hand in hand.
StrokeBrain is acting up in general. I’ve changed “write” to “right” and back again in this post more times than I can count. I just looked up whether the comma goes before the “but” or after. Yesterday, my peripheral vision blinked out like a spotty wi-fi connection. These things have become more normal to me, but they are still strange.
Is there a word for something expected but shocking all the same?
That word would probably wrap up this entire year.
I don’t know what else to say, and I can tell satisfaction isn’t going to come from this catch-up piece, but I am grateful I put something down anyway. I feel like I’m in the middle of a change, an adjustment. I feel like something isn’t quite right in my writing. Like when a dish needs salt. Maybe it would feel better if I picked a different angle, a different spice.
Maybe I will re-read my blog. It could be like searching the pantry for familiar flavors, thinking of new balances I could bring to them.
Or maybe I’ll just rest, like a good patient.
Like a patient human.
Like a human, healing.
Do you re-read your writing? Are you wearing a mask? (Please say yes.) Are you sleeping well?
rarasaur 