My First Draft

Comfortably Numb. I love that song. And I’m a friend to that feeling—zoned out, oblivious, safe from the day’s trials and from the anxiety that drives the addiction. It is with me every morning. It is with me every night. Right now, in the back of my head, the question is rising. Will I make it through the night? Or will I give in to the craving for the comfort to be found in the ritual? Settling down for the night, the cats even know it is time. They take their positions on the sofa next to me. In the zone, with my paraphernalia spread out on the table in front of me. Picking it up, feeling it between my fingers. Rubbing my thumb on that worn, shiny spot in the middle between the up and down volume buttons.  That’s right. I am addicted to the television. It is my HD hookup, my partner in procrastination, my judgment-free friend, my time-sucking nemesis.

Oh, that feels good. Say it and set it free!

I was reading a blog post on one of my favorite blogs today, Zen Habits. It was is titled, “Create” and was about all of the things we waste time doing instead of doing the things we say we want to do. As I was reading I decided I was finally going to try to get this monkey off my back—this thing that keeps me from creating, from writing, from cleaning out the fridge.

I resolve to beat the demon. Jon Stewart and the Kardashians are no match for my resolve!

Stay tuned. I think the first month or so of My First Draft is going to be awash in withdrawal, relapse, and prayers for serenity.

Will someone please comment and let me know what happens on Glee tonight?

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