My Muse Is Back (For Good, I Hope)

November 23, 2008

I’m actually ashamed to admit that I still don’t know my muse that well. I don’t know if it’s a he, a she or an it. I haven’t thought hard about that yet, what my muse really looks like if I were to visualize he/she/it. Or maybe it’s a sexless creature. I don’t know yet for sure. You see, for as long as I can remember, my muse ran away, sucking me dry of all my creative juices. I chased it, but to no avail. He/she/it wouldn’t give me back my juices, wouldn’t give me an inspiration. For months I have begged him/her/it to come back, but like me, he/she/it was stubborn. I couldn’t write a decent vignette, and if I did try to write one, I’d hear him/her/it laugh in a distance and tell me how the piece sucked big time. He/she/it never really gave me a hint on when he/she/it planned to come back. Eventually I stopped chasing him/her/it and stopped expecting his/her/its return.

Then last night happened. I slept early, around 9:00. I wasn’t in the mood to stay up late to watch TV or read a book or work or study. Around 10:30 or so, I was woken up by the itchy mosquito bites on my legs and feet. I haven’t put my blanket on because it was a bit humid even though I had the electric fan on. I tried not to scratch the bites but they were killing me. And then out of nowhere, a poem (or a vignette) popped into my head. Like my muse was waiting, hiding somewhere and then when I least expected it threw a solid snowball to my head. I was so anxious to write it down, but I really am not a night person - early mornings are the best time for me to write. I thought I’d just get some sleep and write it down in the morning.

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