It’s strange how, when the clock is ticking before your eyes prodding you to write, your mind goes blank. Dead-lines! Some call them life-lines, I don’t call them anything. All I know right now? The clock is ticking, and I have 10 minutes to write. Certainly not the end of the world beyond the 10 minutes but there is pressure. To complete a task. To produce something worthwhile. Gah! Typical!
But the mind is blank, so I look around for clues.
I can see my son’s toys are yet to be minded. They are basking in comfortable glory on the dining table where he was playing before he left for school, and where I sit and write. No order in disorder for me. I like to keep things neat. Organized. But today, I am yet to. I should do it once I’m done with this. Especially since I like things in their place. Plus, this is a dining table!
A dining table. Ever realized how it is symbolic of a certain ‘getting together’, of a certain convergence of the family for a common cause – a cause which is as basic and as essential as eating? It’s not the food that is served which matters the most. It is the fact that everyone is around a “fulcrum”. With chairs, designated chairs, for each member of the family. How this designation comes about, I have no clue. But it’s there. We have our chairs. We automatically sit in our places when we are ready to eat. We know our places. Sub-consciously.
The sub-conscious interests me. Freud told me all about it, and more. But what amazes me is how impressions are formed even when we don’t realize it. So, I may think therefore I am, but what about a sub-conscious which is “beyond” my hold, my grasp? As I type, I am conscious of the ticking time, the milk boiling on the gas and the slices of bread in the toaster. A little tick-tick I hear coming from it too as it browns my bread. Or is it just the stop watch ticking in my sub-conscious mind? All that my senses capture affects me. Inside. See? Big word comes to mind – Existential. And I hope I spelled that right!
I look at the time. Says nearly up.
Pressure again. And I can barely think, forget writing for other eyes. Or am I thinking too much? I’m racing my fingers on the key board. Click click tick tick is all I hear, and a fighter plane practising Republic Day parade. But why? Why am I stressing to fill this A4 up? Two sentences would have been enough too, right? Do we try to fill our lives with men and material in the same manner? Pack it up knowing the end is round the corner, or far. But sure that it will come? So that means more is less, and less is even lesser. We need more and ask for more. We even fret for more. More words, more people, more things, more love, more claps, more bling.
The last 15 seconds, of 10 minutes when I just did not think. I only typed – more and more and more. And the dreadful feeling that I cannot even edit.
Whoever says ‘brilliant’ for this will be a proven liar.
The milk boiled over. I got my timing all wrong.
But done. Full stop.
[Written for WordPress Daily Prompts : 365 Writing Prompts aimed at posting at least once a day, based on the prompts provided. The prompt for today was Ready, set, go - Set a timer for ten minutes. Open a new post. Start the timer, and start writing. When the timer goes off, publish.]