It’s Five Minute Friday/Saturday! I work on Fridays. I get home, I chill out, we take the baby out to get coffee in the Wynwood Arts district past her bedtime without socks, and before you know it, I’ve forgotten about Five Minute Friday.
It’s okay. Saturdays work just fine, too. And we don’t take her to Wynwood every week.
To me, Five Minute Friday in itself is somewhere in the definition of “bare.” I’m a
recovering perfectionist. Before I present it to the world, I want it firmed up, edited, I feel a sinking feeling if I accidently use the wrong “your,” or misspell “accidentally.” I like being able to craft my words. Once it’s all down, it’s almost like sculpting. Trim a little here, shave a little there. Or maybe molding with clay, because I tend to add a bit, too. You can’t add back what you’ve sculpted away… Like I’ve ever sculpted or molded with clay beyond elementary school art class. At any rate, the very fact that I can’t sculpt or mold or edit edit edit is something that truly works on me. Like, it makes me work on me. It teaches me to unclench my hands, accept “good enough” when it is good enough. Some things don’t need to be perfected. Every shoe and dish doesn’t need to be put away before a friend can come visit, every word doesn’t have to be read and re-read before it’s posted. Forced grace.
Ready or not, timer’s up.