Boot Camp Day 6: Things That Stood in the Way of My Writing 1,000 Words Today

The first thing I had to do this morning—after brewing a pot of coffee, of course—was to soak in the bathtub for a while. See, I overdid it yesterday in a couple of different departments. I walked 6-1/2 miles in the stifling heat and humidity of mid-day because I had received an invitation to a party that would conflict with the usual timing of my walk. Then I went to the party in question and drank four beers, which is about four more beers than my normal daily consumption of late. So when I rolled out of bed at the crack of 10:15 this morning, my first rudimentary (dehydrated, hungover) thought after “must have coffee” was “must soak in tub long time.”

Coffee mug in hand, I crawled into the tub with the latest issue of Granta, my favorite “literary magazine.” I had read most of the issue, so this morning’s soak was focused on finding every scrap of text that I hadn’t already read.

When I finally got out of the tub, I had to make my bed, which didn’t really contribute much to keeping me from writing 1,000 words. But then I rewarded myself with another hot, steaming cup of java and took a look at my e-mail inbox. There wasn’t much there that needed my attention, but I was ambushed by an e-mail update from Pharyngula, the blog of biologist and atheist agitator PZ Myers. PZ posts items of interest to evolutionists and all manner of freethinkers on his blog several times a day, and I get a daily e-mail with the most recent updates. He’s an enjoyable writer with a razor-sharp mind. His posts draw attention to stories he’s found in the news or on the blogosphere. Which of the new items that I found there sucked up the rest of my morning? There was an interesting piece about Jefferson’s version of the bible, which he compiled by “chopping out all the miracles and unbelievable stuff.”

I also got sidetracked for quite a while by a scathing critique of Barack Obama’s recent speech about keeping alive—even expanding, God help us!—President Bush’s ill-conceived and relentlessly partisan Office of Faith-Based Initiatives. I’m very disappointed in Obama’s blatant pandering to religious fundamentalists. Does he really think that he’s going to get their votes, and doesn’t he care that if he moves much farther to the center, he’s going to be losing mine? The most disappointing thing about him is that he doesn’t seem to see that progressives have been a big part of getting him where he is today. [Sigh.]

Next thing I knew, Jorge was calling to ask if I wanted to take a quick road trip with him to check out the logistics on the new job he’s starting tomorrow in Texas City, an industrial town about 40 miles south of Houston. He said he’d be over in about an hour to pick me up. I hadn’t eaten anything substantial yet, so I went to the freezer and dug out some pasta putanesca that we made a few weeks ago. Tossed it in the microwave and came back to Pharyngula for a while longer.

I can’t honestly say that spilling pasta sauce on my laptop for the second time in a week was a major factor in my not writing 1,000 words today, but I thought I ought to mention it in passing.

It was easy to see by 2:00 p.m. that the day was racing by, so I took my laptop with me on our journey. As we headed into downtown, I started a free-writing exercise. I wrote 349 words on the topic of trying to write in a moving pickup truck on a dazzlingly sunny day on a laptop with a dusty screen. Truly inspired stuff. Even though I was immersed in my topic, I couldn’t help but notice that Jorge had passed the exit to head south on I-45. It turned out that he wanted to stop at a refresqueria (a purveyor of cold drinks) on our way. And it had to be a particular refresqueria in the middle of a Hispanic neighborhood that was not even slightly on the way to Texas City.

About an hour later, we were headed in the right direction, aguas frescas in hand. An agua fresca is more or less a fruit smoothie. Mine was mango; Jorge’s was papaya. He also didn’t have to work too hard to talk me into a serving of elote, a snack of boiled sweet corn, a touch of mayonnaise, crumbled white Mexican cheese, and a splash of hot salsa. He assures me that after eating this snack, I am now at least as Mexican as he is.

There was nothing remarkable about the rest of the drive to Texas City, but somehow it still kept me distracted from doing any more writing. But I had a phone conversation with Gayle (The Cheerleader) on the topic of why it’s not always easy to write, no matter how much one might want to do so.

Once we arrived in Texas City, we spent about half an hour looking for the contractor parking lot where he’ll have to leave his truck at 6:00 tomorrow morning. It turned out that he’d been given a very poorly drawn map, and we were driving up and down the wrong road for most of that half hour.

Then we took the long way home, via Kemah, Seabrook, and Pasadena. I wrote 343 words about Gayle’s suggestion that I need to work on finding ways to turn writing into a game I can win. This idea needs further exploration.

On the way home, we stopped at Kim Son for an early dinner. Since tomorrow is the first day that Jorge has to be up early after a few months out of work, he’s planning to go to bed very early tonight.

Oh look! I’ve written 1,000 words after all—without even counting the earlier efforts I mentioned. It turns out that for today at least, life wasn’t as much of an obstacle to writing as I thought it was.

© 2008 Edward F. Gumnick