This post intended for Week 3
This morning I got on a plane from Oakland, CA to Portland. It was choose-your-own-seating, so I started making my way down the plane, looking for an aisle seat. Whenever I think of plane seating, I think of The Wedding Singer and how Drew Barrymore’s character had never been on a plane before so she wanted the window seat. I can see how people who have never been on a plane would like the window seat, but honestly I like the aisle seats best. If I need to get up, I don’t have to ask one or two other people to stand up so I can get out, and when the plane lands, I’m the first person to be able to get up and stretch my legs.
The first aisle seat to choose from was next to a couple snuggling. Granted, they weren’t being completely disgusting, but he had his arm around her and she had her legs folded under herself like a fawn whilst leaning on him for support and I certainly didn’t want to sit next to that for the next hour and a half. Finally, I found an aisle seat next to a mother and her four-year-old daughter. I don’t mind being next to kids.
After having been in the air for about twenty minutes, I started thinking about a conversation I had had with my best friend, Megan yesterday regarding my housemate, Christine and how interesting she is.
I then had the idea to write a blog post about this housemate, but my computer was in my carry-on above my head. Normally I would make a note on my phone, but it was powered down in my backpack under the seat in front of me. I dragged and positioned my pack in between my feet anyway and found the pen I stole from work and carefully wrote her name on my wrist. I put the pen back and shoved the pack back under the seat.
Then my mind wandered over to that snuggling couple a few rows ahead and figured I could also do a post on PDA. I got the pen back out and wrote it on my wrist under Christine’s name. Then, about to replace the pen, I thought back to Megan and how she could be a blog post on her own so I stuck the pen behind my ear, pulled a hair tie off my key ring, whipped off my thick purple beanie and put it in my backpack. I pulled back my hair and stuck the pen through the funky bun.
My creative energies started to stall, so I got out Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott to pass the time. I love Lamott because she writes humorously and honestly. Her style is a more successful version of what I think my writing is and everything I wish it to be. At the same time, I don’t want to copy her and be accused of trying to be the new Anne Lamott. This is one more reason why writing is complicated.
Unfortunately, I sort of forgot I get really inspired when I read something from her and had to scrawl another idea below Megan’s name.
This is where I started pushing my charm bracelet as far up my arm as possible to fit everything I wanted to get down. I couldn’t go two pages without another idea text-related or otherwise from popping into my head. All too soon, I reached my bracelet; at which point I gave up, knowing if I continued up my arm, I would reach a new level of lazy and according to my seat-mates, strange, and pulled out my phone, pressed the power button, and the buffering sign appeared, taking its sweet time to load the little white apple in the center of the screen.