To Blog or Blob

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I knew something wasn’t right, but my discriminating brain had not yet kicked in. Besides, I was supposed to be getting in touch with my deep profound self, with the present moment, and I wasn’t supposed to question the thoughts, just let them go, write them true and sweet. But, there was still a niggling feeling that I’d gotten something fundamentally wrong. And then I realized what it was. It was the blob. Something about a blob that didn’t fit. A blob is something unformed, amorphous, without boundary, without identity. I didn’t think I had one. At least not that I remembered. But I must if I was supposed to write it. Write my blob. So I continued to pen my random unformed thoughts onto the page. And then I stopped. There was a hint of dawn outside my window. My dog had not yet responded to the waking day, but he would soon. My husband snored. My thoughts were more coherent. I looked down at the handwritten page. It had the look of words written, but not many were recognizable to me as such. And then I realized. It was true. Everything they’d said about those early waking moments being glimpses into the deepest recesses of consciousness were all true.

I had thought blob, and here was the proof. I had written a blob.


Comments

To Blog or Blob — 2 Comments

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