What do I want to write about? I posted this as a writing exercise to my eight-person writing group earlier. What a wide-open question, and as of this word, I still don’t know. I’ve been clenching my jaw again. I hate that I do it, but focusing on relaxing my mandible drives me equally as bonkers as when I notice I’m doing it. Yawning, stretching my mouth as wide as it could go, helped just now.
What am I doing? The internal question not meant to make the page is a good question. Another yawn.
With so much Kraken winning lately, I’m tense seeing them three behind with only nine minutes left to play. Ice hockey. I still can’t believe I’m watching, even like, watching ice hockey.
Another yawn.
Have you yawned yet? Hold on, let me google why yawning is contagious.
The first comment here had several theories; all seem plausible. If you don’t click the link the take aways are: we start yawning at 11 weeks in the womb, baboons do it perhaps to signal sleepy time (experts aren’t sure), it’s not because we need more oxygen, and doing it excessively could mean multiple sclerosis or not enough might mean schizophrenia.
I love and hate how much humans don’t know. Love because mysteries mean discoveries and adventures. Hate because I like to be in control, and knowledge makes me feel empowered.
I want to write about my jaw again. It’s clenching. I’m in a debate in my head whether I can remember to relax it, or if it’s just another thing to do, and I’m already feeling like I have enough to do. Enough to remember.
I didn’t put on comfortable pajamas like I told myself would. Sitting here in a zipped-up jacket and jeans I bet my clenching is a mild self-protest.
There, I’m in red and black checkered pajamas. And I started making the bed. Flinging on the Costco sherpa blanket I felt grateful to myself for it, it’s heavy-weight softness is an inviting hug each night.
Ice cream is on my mind. A treat. I’m debating the need for it. Are treats ever needed?
I must want to write a lot about nothing. I scooped two spoonfuls of vanilla into a cup with one spoon of hot fudge and topped it off with milk then stabbed the ice cream to make a mini milkshake.
Now what do I say? I ask Dave after reading him this post. “Tastes good.”
Ok then. Tastes good.
Love, Jaclynn
Going On 40 