Ya'll (I can officially say I love in Virginia now). Short stories today.
I'm 99% sure that there is zero Italian blood in our lineage. Zero. But we joke all the time how somewhere down the line, those must have been our roots. Our relation to Italian culture and mentality and lifestyle is just too tangible. And for me, there has always been an innate connection to Italy. I'd dreamt of going to Rome ever since I can recall. So in college I studied abroad in a smaller town called Viterbo. And it was glorious and rich and filling and all things wonderful. And now, there are moments when I have to do something, anything, to practice the connection again, so the experiences aren't lost on me. Hence, the cake.
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I’ve been away a while, haven’t I? Didn’t realize it had been five months… Time is flying these days. I’ve got to practice writing. The discipline slips away just like any other activity and it is tough to hone again.
Most of the time, life feels so cyclical. I learn and forget the same things over and over. When it comes round again, especially here, I think to myself that certainly no one wants to hear these words again. Why would you want to hear about how I’m trying to un-busy myself? How I’m trying to write more? How I still cherish all the same things in this life, knowing that they are gifts that come and go? But still! Here I am again.
Read MoreFact of life: It is hard to create.
It’s tough to keep moving through the blockages, to challenge yourself to be innovative, to act when subsisting is easier. I think that for many of us, the lulls between booming essays and satisfying works snatches our focus. We are weighed down during the in-between time, discouraged by all the goodness we aren’t producing. We’re even discouraged when our creations are duller than we think they ought to be. We’re seeking perfection in every little thing we think of, put our hands to, talk of. We expect to resemble the numerous Instagram-worthy, faultless images that we scroll through daily.
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