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.