Am I really back?

I spent the summer switching off from work. It occurs to me that I haven’t done that for years. Even vacations would be spent choreographing for a stray piece of music, or looking for a interesting piece of fusion work.

Back to the summer. I boarded the non-stop flight to the US, certain that I would write all the way. Not a word. Not even a thought. It appears that my mind had decided to switch off too early, and not just from work. I went through the hassle of taking out my laptop from the overhead bin, deciding that it was paper and pen that were the root cause of my problems.

I placed the laptop gently on my pull-out tray (Foreplay to writing, I believe is just as important and satisfying). I waited as the OS booted, all the while thinking that precious time was slipping away. Every second, the thoughts that I was sure I had somewhere were vanishing into the stale air of the aeroplane. I was sure of it.

I wonder what laptops or OS they use in movies – when a character opens up his laptop, its ready to go, and with a few random clicks on the keyboard, work is done. I would like one of those, please!

A little later, I was still waiting for a single word to start me off. I was sure that I had spent half the flight doing this, so I looked up the flight tracker. I could then just put down my writing inability to the inefficiency of the laptop. No such luck – a mere hour had passed.

Just as a thought surfaced (I still maintain it did), the sound of the drink cart rattled my ears. Ah! That was it! I needed some wine to clear my head.

Sufficiently intoxicated, I opened up the laptop again. This time, booting time didn’t bother me. I smiled (or maybe the wine smiled – not sure which) and began writing. I declined the meal service, refusing to be distracted from writing the greatest work yet!

An hour later, having completed my chosen task satisfactorily, I returned my laptop to its secure location, and caught up with some zzzs.

A sniffling sound startled me out of my dream (in which I was receiving the Pulitzer, no less). I shot an exasperated glance to my left, where my fellow passenger was watching a movie and crying. I decided the guy was identifying with some lost soul on reel, and decided to cut him some slack.

After catching a movie, it was time to go back to the creative board. I pulled up my most recent work of art, and began to read. “It was the best of times....”it read. As I read further, all my hopes of grandeur and awards receded. Suddenly, I felt like someone had taken my aspirations and squished them to pulp. Except that the ‘someone’ was me! The opening paragraphs of Charles Dicken’s masterpiece was all that I had typed .

Almost as an ode to my stupidity, the man next to me began to laugh. Shocked that another human was party to my folly, I turned to berate him. The poor chap, of course, was enjoying the comic relief in the movie.

I turned back to the screen, and proceeded to delete the file. Quickly, I returned the laptop to the overhead compartment, and spent the rest of the flight in discontented sleep.

This morning, I sat down to write the script for my upcoming dance production, with scribbled notes by my side. I began to write, and the result is what you’re reading right now!

I should submit a few more blog entries before another obstacle rears its ugly head. And I can only hope that the script from which I have sidetracked, doesn't meet with the same end as my in-flight creation!