So I sit down at the long, faux tree table in the Starbacks at Camino Real. My head is spinning. I was going to write about ritual, repetition, and reflection1, but I just read the iPad 2 announcement. Now I’ve been telling myself for months that I’m going to get one, but now that they’re actually real I have to make some decisions. Plus what I thought was going to be a five minute conversation after our status meeting turned into an hour of organizational and strategy planning. It was good, but it took a bite out of the time I have available to meet the commitments I made this morning. And I forgot that I’m going to spend an hour with a co-worker this afternoon to work through some technical details on a problem he’s having. So all that’s in my head, and it’s not letting anything else through. Which is unfortunate, because it’s a beautiful rainy day, and it just begs for writing.
Of course, because it’s a rainy day and it’s at the tail end of lunchtime, the Starbucks is packed. There’s the expected cadre of students, with the whole rainbow of MacBook colors; as a Dell user, I feel like an intruder. There’s the guys at the end of the table talking about cell phone coverage. And there’s the two pairs of couples — one young, one old — eating pastries and speaking French and taking in the room. So there’s commotion both inside and outside my head.
I can hardly hear myself think, and yet I’m supposed to write? How is this going to work? And I need to write more than just a blog post. I have to write something for launch of the Italian edition of A Penny For My Thoughts.
It doesn’t matter, I tell myself. I’m here to write and I’m going to do just that. I just have to make the clackity noises. Of course, the clackity noises are entirely in my head. And that’s when it hits me.
I pull on my headphones and it all falls into place.
1 Based on a conversation I had with Christina on Monday.