The weight of the world

I love baths. I try to take as many of them as I can. That is my time, alone to think, and read, and create...mostly just to indulge in myself, my body relaxing and my mind minding.

That's my selfish time where I dream about future stories, both my own future (Emmy acceptance speech "...thank you.") and stories I want to tell (how exactly should I beat out that episode? What image can I not separate myself from?). The bath is where the world gets sucked out of me and into the epsom salts (yes, I use them), and bubbles, just for fun (and the scent of pomegranate or cherry blossom is just a nice thing to have around sometimes).

Not sure why I'm using so many parenthesis, these words are being said whether I pretend they're supposed to be a cute secret joke or not.

I just started reading "The Writer's Tale: the Final Chapter", a dialogue between former Doctor Who showrunner Russel T Davies and writer Benjamin Cook. I am opening myself up to that same bold use of honesty. Not sure how this will change or effect my blogs, but I do know that they will be different in some way henceforth. I've just given myself permission, which is..well, just what it is.

The story I was thinking of writing while in the bathtub:
I sometimes enjoy hitting the drain when I am done with the warm water and lie there as it drains, the water lowering in the tub, my body sinking down and down, getting heavier and heavier. What struck me today, is that I've never felt that my body was getting heavier, it's just as I describe it that I think that word. In my mind, every time I do this, I feel the cold air covering more of my front and the heaviness the air brings with it as evidence (in my mind) that I am traveling through space at fantastic speed, accelerating. The weight in my body is proof for that image that I am going faster and faster, and the world is pushing by me so fast I can feel its coldness press against me, waking me up.

What I find is that it is so much harder for me to get up and out of an empty bathtub that has recently been full than it is to get out of one that was empty all along. This is my deep statement that takes me to a million different places. The weight of the world upon re-entry. It's heavy, and worth feeling from time to time.

Web-side voices

For the last few days at work, every time I've taken a break, so has a specific person who has to fill any hint of silence by narrating her actions and thoughts to the room. I don't have much more to say about this other to complain that it happened when I wanted to focus on reading.

Advice: Instead of narrating everything that happens inside your head to a room where people have no choice but to listen to you even if they do not want to but are too polite to tell you to stop, just blog it instead. That way, people don't have to read it if they don't want to and you can still put everything in your head down into words to enlighten the world of your thought processes play-by-play.

(Also why I don't twitter)