To Write Under Amber Lights

[thatsjustjenna]

I was enthralled with reading Patti Smiths' latest memoir "Bread of Angels" and missed my deadline to write. That and not long after midnight my reverie was broken by the sound of Mowgli vomiting on the kitchen floor. Many paper towels and clorox wipes later...

I wasn't sure about what to write tonight. Sometimes I come with grand ideas and daydreams. Today I'm tired yet wired. A common malady suffered by us AuADHD types. My amber lights flicker in and out when the heat cuts on and off. Somehow a metaphor for my creativity. 

I don't want to go to bed either, don't want to go to work in the morning. I find myself wanting to disappear into the background again- which is sad considering how long I yearned to be seen. Now that I have a public facing job I find myself having to defend my position to everyone in the sandbox. 

I find myself feeling much like I did when I was little. Demanding equal footing among my brother and his friends. Or just any group of children in general. I had my own island of Misfit toys, and they have been my sanctuary. Now it's just people in positions of power patting me on my head and telling me to run along and play with my books while they do the real work of stealing our funding out from under our noses like I am not supposed to notice. 

I'm reminded to finish putting together a presentation in order to go before the board of supervisors in a few weeks. My stomach is already in knots. I do not want or need this. My only solace is that Kellie should be with me and helping to give this presentation. I hope to have some supporters in the audience too. Helping to make me feel less afraid. 

I'm already planning on wearing my black pants in case I somehow manage to shit myself. 

But anyway. 

I wish I could write half as well as Patti Smith. She's just SO good. My peace of mind comes in knowing that she probably wishes she could write half as well as her revered icon. 

Aren't we all trying to become ourselves by becoming other people? 

I hope that I can write again. Unravel some truth under the glow of these amber lights. My nana watching on from the photograph of us on the wall. Taken on a Christmas morning some many years ago. Our heads titled inward toward the other, looking and laughing at some inside joke. That was how you could always find us. Whispering jokes and stories to one another in the church pew when we should have been more devoted to the sermon. Jesus was nothing new to me. My own Nana could walk on water. 

With that memory I think it is time to sail off to dream of better tomorrows and future nights under amber lights. 

Until next time...