Freedom's Just Another Word

La Misma has not wanted to let down her readers by posting news about her new life. Both of them would be dismayed to learn that unlimited freedom is not quite the blessing and gift it looks like from a cubicle in midtown. Rather it is somewhat vertiginous and the vigorous production of work is not as proliferant as La Misma expected.

Of course, there is time to do long stretches of writing. And on certain days it has been possible to do that and make satisfying progress. But time is so strange an element. Without a harsh and relentless schedule wrenching one from the comforts of home and forcing one into the city to sit listlessly at a desk for seven hours, time seems to fill in long stretches of the day like the ocean rushing in to nearly erase a drip castle. Take right now. It's 11:05 and I haven't done any writing yet. Because I'm writing this blog post. And I've talked on the phone. And I slept till 9:25.

Okay! It's an electrifying start. I knew it would be hard to adjust and I knew at times I'd feel vague but I didn't expect all this wondering: "Should I get another coffee? Where? The bagel place has better coffee but the French cafe has better muffins. Should I go write in a cafe or stay in my kitchen? The cafe with the electrical outlets (for my laptop) doesn't have good coffee but the one with good coffee has no electrical outlets, plus I don't like their muffins." I'm sure Proust went through similar ruminations.