Christmas! Christmas! Christmas!

Gold, tinsel, blue lights, multi-colored lights, bells, bulbs, balls, bows, wrapping paper, gifts, toys, candy, chocolate, candy canes, snow, ribbons, elves, stockings, silver, cookies, carols, muppets, ghosts, reindeer, sleighs, hot chocolate, nutcrackers, santas, chimneys, trees, stars, home alone, grinch, scrooge, boots, scarves, red, green, ornaments, Bernard, trains, turkey, pixies, presents, nuts, popcorn, cold, shopping, money, cards, pictures, mickey, egg nog, Maureen O'Hara, 34th street, hats, muffs, family, games, shovels, cheese, candles, oranges, snowmen, carrots, coal, mittens, fun, garland, wreath, mistletoe . . . .

. . . . a star, a manger, a child is born.

Confines

There are days when the world seems to slough off me, when responsibility and life become part of the background, unimportant and seemingly forgettable, if only I could focus on words on the edge of release. It is on these days when I want nothing more than to write until I am drained of all that is inside of me, till pages are splattered with my thoughts and a deepening feel of me. Yet my sense of duty crowds in, work a prior claim on my time, an obligation that overrides any sense of creativity bubbling to escape the confines of my cubicle.

It is maddening to sit at a computer all day, wanting to write, but unable to because I have to type work things, I have to type all day, but none of it is what I want to be writing, none of the work I do is for me. My inspiration dries up as I work, the moments slipping through my grasp to be lost amidst the endless facts and instructions I give my offices, my dreams garbling into unintelligible wisps of ideas drifting out of reach.