Unsettled 11/23/11

• Mother Ocean is angry this morning, churning high and slapping white foam onto the high-tide beach.  White is the only color breaking up the myriad grays of sky and water.  No sunrise today.
• The cars swish by on soggy Ocean Blvd.  The men emptying trash in Hurl Rocks Park wear orange slickers, foretelling a nasty day to come.  Turned the A/C on to dry the sticky air in my living room.
• Woke with achy knees and feet.  Maybe from two beach walks yesterday, maybe my bones are complaining about the weather change.
• I am churning along with Mother Ocean, unsettled.  Want to write now that my company is gone, need to write, but what?  Have several short story ideas simmering, but nothing inspires me right now.  My finger isn't twitching to grab a pen and let it race across the page.  Started a memoir about my journey here, but my mind says "who the hell cares about me moving to Myrtle Beach to write?"  What could I possibly have to say that would make someone want to read it??  No one even reads my blog, face it.  And a memoir is supposed to be honest -- can I really bare my soul and tell my truth?  And what about my family and friends -- why should their lives be exposed just because I feel the need to write about mine??  So many questions, no answers.
• The one blessing to this day so far is I'm working kitchen prep for Thanksgiving dinner at the Community Kitchen for the homeless.  Doing physical work after sitting and writing excites me.  Tomorrow I get to serve dinner from 3-7pm.  Maybe I'll make some new friends.  Maybe I'll run into my wacky buddies Mary and Lee from the free concert.  Maybe I'll be inspired with a story I'm meant to write.  Maybe?