Archive for the ‘Piece of Mind’ Category
Almost Done
Friday, September 12th, 2008
Another deadline week is coming to an end and I’m wrapping it up by actually taking a lunch hour. I’m substituting barbells instead of the usual nutrition bar or … well, that’s about all, really.
Form the large expanse of windows, I can look out on the rain clouds and the sloppy moat around the office complex. Puddles are forming in the dull spots in the pavement, pooling around the rocks along the sidewalks. The tree bark has turned a deep brown from three now of spitting, nasty February rain and days that begin and end in fog.
On days like this, I spend less than a minute outdoors, just passing from the garage to the car, into and out of the office in the early mornings when the birds are swarming between the power lines and in the late, late afternoon when the kids in the neighborhoods all around are rushing home with wet jeans to make it to the dinner table.
I’ll be on my way home in a little more than two hours, tired and hungry as though I’d spent the whole day outside working. Somehow I feel that might actually be less painful than the waiting for the weekend to begin on an empty stomach and stretched muscles.
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Tags: Lunch
Loose-fitting flannel shirts, warm coffee and shallow fog are what lie in store during the mornings this week. The final deadline for Urban Times is this Wednesday and, as usual, I’ll be writing at dawn, through the children’s nap time and deep into the night.
I write by a window well in the basement, probably the least artistically encouraging spot in the house. Boxes and old clothes and toys are spread on the floor in disarry and the disorganization, if I let it can play mental games with me. It’s exactly the type of disorder I hope to keep out of my writing.
Downstairs, the light is always the same – muted, neither cloudy nor sunny – and so it feels a bit disconnected from the world. All I need, though, is a little space cleared so that I can put some thought into my work and find the words. Today, my work involves a historical piece. Tomorrow, an urban trend I’ve come to learn a great deal about. And, still more work on Wednesday.
I”m dressed the part and in this Seattle-like frame of mind, fueled by caffeine and a little creativity, I’m going to push through a day perfect for sleeping, for lying in bed and reading, which is how I ended up here in the first place.
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Tags: Urban Times, Writing Practice
Tilting, as it is, back from the sun, the planet’s top half is gradually leaning closer to the colder constellations. As fall settles in, the nights are lengthening – the darkness comes on by 8 p.m. – and the temperatures feel as though the plain states have suddenly been elevated to mountain tops where the wind is strong and the mornings are brisk.
Theses nights are perfect for running and I’ve taken to jogging the neighborhood at an hour when the working families are turning the lights down to watch last few minutes of late night television. My usual pattern takes me around a small loop close to our house and then around again in a much broader circle past a public park, hiking trails, an ugly church, through new houses and an older section built in the 60s.
I rounded the corner by the yellow fire hydrant, the pavement lit orange by street lamps. With my head on the swivel I turned up the asphalt road that ends in a cul-de-sac and began looking for snakes. The block has been laid out before the houses are being built, which means a large amount of the land is black.
The big dipper came into view clearly and bright, and I found the whole thing without searching the sky, without feeling inferior for not knowing where to find the stars depending on the season.
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Tags: Night
I was fascinated by mirrors when I was about four years old. One of my earliest memories is holding a make-up mirror up to a larger one over the bathroom sink. The effect it created was one long chain of mirrors, one after another, the same image re-created, getting smaller and smaller and curving off into infinity.
I remember thinking that if stepping into another dimension were ever possible, it would involve playing two mirrors off one another. I used to stand at the sink and imagine crawling into the smallest image I could see, which usually consisted of my eye, a section of my forehead and hair, and my fist that was holding the smaller mirror. I’d crane my neck to try to change perspectives – to see where the chain of mirrors disappeared to. This all feels like a dream now – and it did then too. I felt like I had company there with me, like I could walk in to meet an audience of watchers, or someone could step out to be with me. And, I remember this always happened in the summer timean with the sun shining and windows open, better images on fair weather days.
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Tags: Childhood
This blog entry turned into a published piece in Present magazine. I had originally promised to try to publish it in a Bonner Springs publication, but due to the content and the descriptions of the boy in the story, I decided to try another venue. Sometimes it pays off to contribute articles at random.
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Tags: Present Mag.
