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I write nonsense

Have you ever felt like there is something waiting there, just out of reach?  A thread that's unwinding faster than you can grab on to the end?  Like there is something just out of sight and if you turn your head at just the right time, you might finally see it?

That's writing for me these days.

Reviving ye old blog is an attempt to revive ye old writer, the one who lives somewhere deep down inside. 

The writer in me ticks like a clock.  Most of the time I don't notice the sound.  It just IS.

Tick tock.

But, every now and then, the sound gets loud.  Almost deafening, almost drowning out everything else until I have to pay attention to the time.

TICK TOCK.

It's at that point that I get out the pencils or keyboards or notebooks and begin.  I read old stuff and marvel at the problems that riddle my lines.  I jot down notes or delete stuff that never came to fruition.  I try writing.  First blips, then sentences, then paragraphs, or outlines, or pages. 

But, I'm findin…
Recent posts

Resolving

My husband and I decided we need to make a plan.  Actually, 4 plans.  And, actually - if I'm being honest - it was really my idea and he's just coming along for the ride because that's how it usually goes.  And I'm not sure that sounds quite like what I mean.  But, I digress.

We need 4 plans.  We don't have 4 plans and we're not sure what's going to be in those 4 plans.  But, right now we're thinking 4 plans. 

Plan 1: Budget/money/spending.  We have struggled with this for all 20 years of our marriage.  We've been bailed out, scooped up, helped out ... and still, we struggle.  So, this plan is at the top of the list of plans.

Plan 2: Shoot - I already forgot plan 2. 

Plan 3: To move or not to move, that is the question.  To move where and how and when?  We're leaning a particular direction, but...big decisions are hard.  Also, do we store our stuff or get rid of it or move it?

Plan 4: Double shoot - I forgot this one too.  I think it had to do w…

Dear Elder Tario,

It's a cold December night and I'm thinking of things I would say if you were here. 

I might say: I've missed you.

or

I'm sorry it's been difficult.

or

Tell me about the good things.

or

I might say nothing at all.

A lot of life is spent saying nothing at all.  Sitting in a movie theater or watching TV.  Riding in a car.  Tonight Carly and I drove home together from Grandma's house, almost all the way in the silence of an audio book.  I think she listened to about half.  The other half she spent just thinking.

I sometimes wonder what internal monologue sounds like to everyone else.  I know what mine sounds like.  There's a lot of "why'd you do that" reasoning and "I should've said..."  It's words, though.  Apparently, that internal monologue isn't the same for everyone.  What did the monologue sound like before I had words?  That's a question I can't answer. 

The night outside was inky black while we drove, a scatt…

Fragmented re-introduction

I dreamed a dream once of what this would be like.  Of life.  Of patterns and songs and ticking off boxes to find my way. 

Trouble was, I keep looking at the wrong list.

This year's list:

- Turn 40 (check)
- Move again (check)
- Send the boy on a mission (check)
- Finish admin license
- Get lost (check)
- Get found (check)
- Lost again (check)

Wait, that went off track. 

Adulthood is a lot of getting off track.  And back on.  It's weird.

I thought at 40, I would have it all together.

But, I'm barely keeping it from falling apart. 

Weird.

So, this is me where I am now.

40, working, waiting.  My boy's on a mission in Boise.  My girl's 12 going on 20.  My husband hates his job most days, and loves it alternatively.  Same for me.  We live in a small town I don't like very much and dream of going somewhere else, but we don't know where that is. 

I want to be a writer, but I don't spend time writing.

I read something the other day that gave me hope: Guy Fieri…

Oh, boy

So this is seventeen.

It's charm and silence and sighs.
It's longer legs and towering above my head.
It's venturing out alone in a car.
It's struggling and succeeding.  
It's struggling and failing.
It's beauty in small moments and watching TV together.
It's independence and complete dependence.
It's being sure and being completely lost.

In many ways, seventeen is nothing new.  
He's still him, and I'm still me.  
In many ways, seventeen is nothing I've ever known.
It's a strange feeling in my heart, in this space that he occupies, in this chamber, in this place.
My own seventeen was a lot more mystery, a lot more self doubt, a lot more fear.
My own seventeen was painful and strange.
And so this new seventeen is scary, too.
It's letting go, even though I'm not ready.
It's holding on for dear life.

So, this is seventeen.



 *Photos by Payneless Photography

Sounds in the black

I'm in the well.  The deep well of what have I done.
Below me echoes the sound of a thousand feet of
blank air.
Above me, light fades to a pinprick.  On all sides
are the slick, slimy bricks
built to hold back the earth,
to keep it from caving in,
to create a passage for bringing water from below.

Once, I looked over into my child's face
and saw myself staring back.  Saw the insecurities
and pride,
the wonder and alarm.  It was strange and yet - satisfying.
I've created immortality, it flows in his veins.  And yet,
he is his own self.  A self I have always known.  He is both new
and old at the same time, a million years of love and change
meeting in the moment of conception.  Lives won and lost,
all leading to the here and now.  Looking over,
I see him as if distantly.

It sounds like nonsense, these words with no form.
These thoughts that pour out like ink on the page.  It sounds like
too much
thinking and not enough sleeping.  It sounds strange.  I'm sorry for tha…

Hello? Is it me you're looking for?

You know when you see someone again and it's been, like, forever, and you're not really even sure that you're getting their name right and you wonder WHAT on EARTH they've done to their hair/face/body/children and you can't quite find the right words to fill the gap between time and space?
My second year of teaching is just beginning - and isn't that a wonder?  Last year...let's just say, we all survived.  Last year involved:
- Commuting home (2 hours, one way) almost every weekend - The kids and I here (in Espanola, where I teach) while Eric stayed in Edgewood - Putting our (still for sale) house on the market - Two semesters of Master's classes (what was I thinking??? on the up side, I only have 1 semester left and I am DONE.  D. O. N. E.) - Saturday's spent in professional development - My first ever "work trip" to San Diego 
And this year:
- Josh is a Senior (whuuuut!) - Carly started 5th grade - We all live here in Espanola (double WH…