So, one would assume the ideal for any writer is to be surrounded by trees and write on their typewriter/worn-down journal and work on their next greatest hit.
Not so for me.
The way I best saw it, one person who finds nature peaceful described it as “always changing”. That’s true, in a romantic kind of way. The trees change their colors. The seasons change. The weather.
(Can I be a nature witch who can manipulate bad weather so it doesn’t happen, please? A wimpy nature witch?)
But I see that as background noise. I already have a lot of thoughts going on in my mind. I don’t want quiet when I want to be distracted from my thoughts.
Or, worst of all, I’ll fall down YouTube holes. I’ll watch hours’ worth of extravagant performances, vloggers with lush lives. I’ll literally lose myself in fantasy because I want something to HAPPEN.
Then I feel guilty for that. Some people go their entire lives seeking this kind of peace and quiet. But in quiet, all I see is having my only company as myself.
I’m trying my best to fix that. So, when I’m lacking in stimulation, I create something. I write. I sketch. I sing.
Or, I go for runs. I lift weights. I do free exercises, mimicking punches from YouTube videos.
To cut through the silence, the noise of my own thoughts, I work on drowning them out with creating something, or engaging in activities to make me faster and stronger. To make me feel as powerful as a superhero. (Avengers, I heard you lost a few members. Need help? …too soon?)
As is, I’ll fight the peace and quiet.
Because I’ll be damned if I go down without a fight.