Tuesday, January 26, 2010

back end of january

another snow coming in, this one welcome also, since we never get enough winter around here. bad news from new mexico, where my parents are getting older, and i'm jammed with my schedule, & it's hard to go out & see them. under these conditions it's almost impossible to post, unbearable to take the light banter of facebook chats & everyday complaints, so i've gone mute, again, while still quilting, & playing music at every opportunity, or, when in worst need of diversion, write haiku from my traveling days, which is slowly filling up, but not necessarily getting better. you do, after a while, get better at stuff like quilting and haiku, but it's painfully slow and lots of bad things get done in the process. eventually i'll clean it up, i swear.

same with the movies. i will, eventually, get better at it. use real clips, that i film myself, that fit within the beats of the music; put my pop-art to good use. i'll try all the songs i store, one at a time, in my music blog; i'll make versions of my own, using garage band, so that movies are entirely original, no borrowed versions whatsoever. use the story lines of stories i've written- i own them, hey, so anything that points back to them can only be good. put just passing through (this blog, scroll down the template) - on film.

lofty goals, but the schedule packs me in; nineteen students crowd into a small classroom and are all expected to hand in journals; this is one of three classes that grind along in a major production machine. i'm not bored, but occasionally i stop, exhausted by my computer, a wreckage in the office of unsorted, undone tasks. the grading and prep alone push me well over forty hours a week; the boys at home use up the rest; upon arriving home, i call n.m. to find out that all is a bit rocky, not quite calm & relaxed.

i have a play; it's here; i'd like to have kids perform it, and see it, and bring it out. but it causes lots of trouble too; it's not too easy to organize. i go to quaker meeting for an hour of silence, or in some cases a minute, or even a breath. i have almost nothing to contribute, though i did write the thing. the real problem is at home; it causes stress in the family, just to carry it all out.

rather than carry on a large extended complaint, which is the burden i'm feeling these days, i'll offer out a ray of hope. a baby is coming; a room awaits. two graduations are coming; both boys will walk, i believe. the haiku is now at over 300; i have plans, and it may expand, become respectable, and allow me to weed out the junk. the quilt is going to make it, after 30 years. the band has a name; after some work, some gigs are rolling in, and we slowly, slowly, get out name out there. mom walks, sounds good, has hope. spring peeks. the garden, dormant, under sticks and old leaves, is going to come back. the sun will warm us up, bring the green back, melt the residual chill.

i'm not writing much these days, another novel, stalled at about chapter three, again, and that set me back, as if i'm thinking, what am i doing, why is there so little motivation. it's like i'm motivated to write one, but not motivated to say anything in particular, or, i haven't clarified my goal before i start writing. my central character is just me, flailing around, solving a crime, yet being unwilling, really, to even get involved, being a traveler, 'just passing through.' catch a theme here? if i'm merely escaping to those days where i wasn't totally invested in my environment, then, i sure don't need a novel to do that for me, though it is kind of a novel (new, i mean) main character, as novels go. most of your detectives aren't quite like this motley dude.

walked off with my little boy's harmonica the other day - it got in my pocket, somehow, because i was disciplining him, taking it from him when he was using it deliberately to torture someone. sound familiar? got out of class & found it in my pocket. nobody stopped me, when i used it a little, on my way, walking across, not far from the founder's statue, the steps with the spring flowering trees. the founder stood silent, as i played my little tune. the sun hasn't been shining much. people go about their lives; the area is in an economic slump that now overshadows the recent depression by what, decades. someday i'll face the facts; it's really quite difficult to live here, and i'm no longer crazy enough about what i'm doing, to tolerate what is happening to it. yet i'm not quite ready, or able, to figure out the better path. who is paying these days, google? do they take telecommuters? would i even be able to leave the place, where i've got people now, and am set in a kind of hard-times, recurring cycle? will the sun come up in the east? one can only hope, and, as the earth turns, maybe the size alone, of the turning planet, will be more powerful than any small imbalance that blights it. one can only hope.


Blogger Peggy said...

I can just picture you in my head, walking across the campus playing the harmonica. It makes me smile. :-)

3:17 AM  
Blogger J-Funk said...

When we lived in our old place, there was a young man who walked by every morning on his way to work or school that played the harmonica as he walked, if you weren't right by the window when he walked by you'd miss it but it was really neat to see. He was quite good - as one probably would be if they practiced all the way to work every day. I want to learn how to play fiddle that way. I'm not sure if I would have the nerve though.

11:00 AM  

Post a Comment

<< Home