looseframing

…not because i felt i had anything to say. (-;

but i guess that’s how this works, yes? it’s not that you just wake up and have a post in your head. no, you have to sit down and bang on the keyboard to see what comes out. follow maybe a small inspiration, unformed, legless, without eyes and will and direction. you write it, and it grows as you feed it more words, add commas, delete one phrase and add another, think about a video clip you could embed in the middle of it all or a photo, or just a quote from the novel at your bedside.

then, something happens. the words begin to feel they have minds of their own, and are finding their own paths. legs kick out — and kick back at you — and stretch out in ways you could not have foreseen. You begin to think that maybe you should do this in front of your class — ask them for a word or idea or something, and just begin to write a post. see where it goes. end when you’re ready to. then discuss the joys of revisions – have them help you add to what you have, revise it, tweak it, delete… then publish it. so others can see it so students see you being messy and lame and then thinking and fixing and adjusting — and finally, sharing, because without that, writing is, hmm, a bit like masturbating. it feels good and releases tension, but doesn’t really go any farther.

nothing wrong with a good bit of self-care, for sure. but an audience just makes it that extra bit more exciting. (-;

and see? you end up with silly and slightly obscene metaphors if you just write. who knew that’d come (no pun intended) out? you can’t plan shit like that.

my eyeballs are tired at the day’s end — so much writing to edit, comment on, nurture, produce… why would i write more when i come home? why not just watch brainless TV? what could i possibly add to the word pile that i’ve been buried in all day?

i suppose something that isn’t about writing tutors and their training, staffing and training issues for new writing center satellites, notes on and critique of  a tutoring session, comments on student drafts of whatever analysis is on the table at the moment, emails managing one classroom or writing center glitch or another, etc etc.

something that is about the other stuff i love (because i love my jobs — and the writing i do for them is real and raw and intricate and exciting to produce). words — how gorgeous they are, and how deadly. the desert in winter — gentle, warm, soft. my family and friends — strong arms for hugs and strong hearts supporting me. or… how much i miss parenting, and the little man who inhabited my home and heart for 6 months. and how i am glad it’s 7:36 and so only 25 minutes from when my boi gets off work and comes home to me.

and and and.

and so i end up here, without planning to: in gratitude. for a life coming out of chaos and into the light i knew had to be there, because it just HAD TO BE, no matter how dark it was for a long while there. and for all those people and things that helped me stay on that path, even/especially in the dark.

writing to write gratitude.

why do we keep them? hoard them? what makes us hang onto random stuff for years? and then what makes us suddenly go through a purging stage and dump things? we do that and feel good, clean — when before we couldn’t even consider letting go of what we just tossed or gave away or whatever.

yeah, i just had a purging moment. do you have any idea how many rocks i had collected over the years? seriously. rocks are cool, and can be gorgeous and/or just weird (and thus snazzy for their oddness), but almost every surface in my house had oodles of rocks perched on it. many of which i had not really looked at in years.

so many of them now live in my yard. (-; some evoked memories of past camping trips and hikes — so a few got saved for that. others got saved because they are just too cool to get rid of. but many are just…. pretty rocks. some i have had since way back when i was a kid and had a rock polisher.

they have all been packed up and moved several times, have been dusted and displayed around the house… and mostly, ignored. but i could never get rid of them. until yesterday.

it felt good to purge. i feel lighter, cleaner. i like knowing what rocks are actually still here, and why they are. i like that there is now less clutter on shelves and window sills and other surfaces. so why now? why let go now? why did i hold onto that stuff for so long?

what is it with humans and hoarding and purging cycles? i felt no pain yesterday dumping the rocks i did — but that action was inconceivable before then. what shift in us that lets us finally let go?

happy new year!

so my old blog broke, probably because i ignored it for too long… poor thing. or maybe it ran away. not sure.

whatever happened, it’s gone. and now this one is here. i guess i should take better care of it. yeah, like maybe… write in it. lol!

so, a new start. nice to have those. i have to get some work done first (sorry, money-making does take precedence, especially when i have a deadline of today for this specific project). then, hmm, maybe i can post for real later today.