These last few days have been a whirlwind. Friday morning my sister drove five and a half hours with me to go visit some friends from the college she went to before transferring. One of the girls graduated Saturday, so we went to a diner for dinner and then tried to watch her graduation the next morning. Unfortunately, we didn't get any seats in the graduation building and decided watching speeches on a screen just wasn't the same. That, combined with a Colorado May 9th snowfall, sent us back on the road for the drive back up the mountains. I finally see why I should consider actually learning how to drive and getting my license. My sister would have loved some driving help...
Saturday afternoon we got back to a houseful for another friend's graduation party. We ate massive hamburgers (or at least I tried to finish mine) and drank soda from mustachioed straws and played Apples to Apples. All of this under streamers and balloons hanging from all over the ceiling.
Although by the end of the day my inner introvert was crying for solitude and wishing I had a room to go hide in, talking about hiking and climbing and writing and reading was fantastic. I still laugh at myself for how easily I get carried away talking about books and poetry.
Still no job update, but I'm hopeful that tomorrow I will get some kind of phone calls either finally finishing the search or letting me know that I need to print out more resumes and hand them out at every store in town. In the meantime, I'm trying to encourage myself to write something. Problem is, I'm not sure what I would rather write- poetry or stories or work on a novel, and Wuthering Heights has captivated me so much that I can't seem to put it down long enough to focus on writing.
In fact, I'm quite sure the only reason I'm writing this now is because I'm at my brother in law's grandma's house and Wuthering Heights is stuffed in a closet back at my sister's house with all the rest of my stuff. The documentary about Henry the Eighth isn't quite enthralling me, even though I know literature and history are supposed to go together and I should like history. But it's about time for an update anyway. So here it is. Tonight I'll chop off some more chapters of reading and hopefully soon I can find the time and enthusiasm to write my own page turner.
In the meantime: a poem by someone else.
Keeping Things Whole by Mark Strand
In a field
I am the absence
of field.
This is
always the case.
Wherever I am
I am what is missing.
When I walk
I part the air
and always
the air moves in
to fill the spaces
where my body's been.
We all have reasons
for moving.
I move
to keep things whole.
No comments:
Post a Comment