Blank Page

I have a fear of blank white spaces on Microsoft Word. The blinking cursor sits idly; my fingers rest lightly on the keyboard and my face has a slightly bemused air- not unlike the facial expressions of someone constipated.

And in a way I am- mentally constipated, that is. There is a dam in my head and it is unyielding and no matter how many explosives i deploy (in way of brain exercises, scintillating music, and doodles), it will not break. The subversive waters of my creative conscience have been hidden away; I can hear the gentle swill of them lapping against the irremovable dam. But, as for being able to sink beneath their waters?

No such luck.

Instead, I find myself turning to the mind-numbing task that is reading GOP reports, legal jibber-jabber and Chaucer. I am studying, because let’s face it; who reads Chaucer for fun? Well, besides your crusty English prof. But, he also doesn’t change his trousers. Ever.

A sudden, horrible thought is able to enter the thick morass I call my head- I have been studying like this for seven months straight.

 Perhaps...

Oh no, it’s too horrible to contemplate but- perhaps- all my creativity has been squandered on English essays and poli sci discussions? There is, in fact, maybe nothing left. No droplets of ingenuity that can be used for Keeping it Halal dot com?

No, NO!

Seated here in the student lounge, among happy people milling about, chatting, eating, or studying, I am internally freaking out. Unbeknownst to them, underneath this complacent and smiling countenance is a roiling mass of anxieties.

"You ready to Karate?" "I'm ready to Karate." "Let's Karate this THANG" “Consider it Karate-d."  My internal dialogue hardens my resolve. 

I will type this out!

I WILL.

Oh great. Nope, nothing’s coming out. Someone save me.

I put my head on the desk, something I usually do in times of great stress. The cool wood feels refreshing, like my mother's palm against my skin. I shut my eyes and concentrate on any and every surah and dua I know. They flit through my head, and my body instantly relaxes. 

I am unaware of how long this goes on for, but soon my breathing is steady and calm. My barely audible ‘Ameen’ is lost in the general chat of the lounge. I open my eyes slowly and raise my body back up. I stare at the empty Word document and now I can see my article written. 

I start,

“I have a fear of blank white spaces on Microsoft Word.”

 

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