The first paragraph of this will be of me rambling about my Attention Deficit Disorder, carelessness when it comes to finishing started tasks, and my overall lack of competence in organising myself. Yes, I get distracted easily. No, I cannot sit still through a whole movie (usually/often). So when I am tackled with a task that involves a lot of discipline, I tend to freak out a little bit and either hide it in a closet or under the carpet, or find other things to do to hide the fact that really, instead of cleaning the whole flat, I should be writing.
The second task of my Fundamentals of Poetry course was to find a stone. Stone found, the next step was to document the life of the stone; or rather, turning the stone, seeing what’s underneath, thinking, observing, describing. Looking up words in the dictionary, making new sentences. Coming up with unknown words, coming up with colors and hues, making lists as long as possible. I found myself with papers thrown left and right on the living room table, the smell of old paper as I flipped through my English Dictionary, scribbling sentences, moving words around, making associations, throwing my hands up in the air in despair for what I thought was an impossible task, mainly because the muse had abandoned me, in the hands of Fate, maybe.
Nevertheless, after overcoming desperation, calming down with 15 cups of herbal tea drunk at 100 miles an hour, I came up with a story which made sense in my head, somewhat. A mix of memories, words I associated with each other and lines with a strange rhythm when you read them out loud.