Not Your Average Damsel

OH, WHAT JOY AND WHAT SUPRISE, WHEN I OPEN UP MY EYES TO SEE MY HIPPO HERO STANDING THERE!

A few nights ago, I had a dream that I sat down to write with this bowl- you-over genius idea. Everything in the dream felt just like real life. I was fired up to nerd out in front of this very familiar blank Add Post screen. In was this very chair, with a drink on my right and my phone on my left- just as I am now. I dream-sighed a deep sigh and got ready to dig in and dream-write this gem slowly forming in my brain. I put fingers to keyboard. . . and woke up.

I spent the next 15 minutes lying in my perimenopausal sweat pool scanning my foggy thoughts. Searching. Desperately trying to recall the topic of the blog I planned to pen. Nothing. My eyes fluttering with that REM-like thing that Trinity had in the Matrix when she learned to fly the helicopter, I tried to find any byte of memory that could tell me what the hell I was going to write about. Nada. Instead of strutting off to the office and flinging a “Let’s go,” to my sleeping Black Neo, I stiffly turned over on my side, damp and angry, to find nothing but the Boy sleeping on his butt, as per usual. Genius lost. And now slated to be awake until 5am! Fuck my late-40s and this hormonal curse.

I have a full Android (no judgement, you i-Sheep) notepad list of potential blog topics that I have collected over the past month. Things I have jotted down at work, or in line at Aldi, that now, in the blue light of the second screen, make no ever-lovin’ sense. “Don’t hate kids. Sugar Packet Lady. The Raven Thriller. Stinky Pee.” All actual items from the list. Real silence following each of them. Real confusion brewing as to where exactly was I planning to go with any of these phrases. Is this writer’s block? Is this a talent void? Is this list salvageable? Maybe it’s Menopause.

These 3 paragraphs, most certainly, were not the topic of my night vision brilliance. But, they worked.

/damsel