Any other thing than the one thing

I graduated from high school in 2003 from Robert Service High School which was located on Abbott Road which was the road just behind my house. I could’ve walked to school, but decided to make the drive instead. A regrettable decision the more I think about it. When I left Anchorage, I was relieved and very, very ready to go. (Now, it’d take very little convincing to get me back to the Pacific Northwest region). And go I did, back to Oklahoma where I took to studying journalism and writing. I wasn’t much into news writing, but was decent enough at it, I suppose. When my dad died, it was all I could do but get myself off the couch, let alone to a class or write something of worth. The last thing I wrote around that time was a eulogy for him, but my Mimi essentially had to hold my hand for that, so, really, I only half-wrote it. He died and, poof!, so did my voice and writing. I avoided a lot of things at that point, but especially writing. I even went so far as to change my major my senior year — the ultimate avoidant behavior?! — to dodge the written word. But it’s always in the background, tapping its foot.

There’s not much spare energy these days, and, for some reason, writing takes a lot from me. Whatever it is that’s asking for my attention feels charged and I don’t know how to articulate it right now, but the word raw comes to mind. So instead of spending my free time going there, I sift through the mail and do the dishes and walk the dogs and read all the things and just about any other thing than the one thing I feel I need to be doing.

WestFacing

On a positive note:
This song and a hunter-green GMC Yukon, a new city where snow boots were the daily shoe choice, a Halloween carnival (the year of the perpetual hippie), and a mom who was way cooler than I gave her credit for (hear minute 3:32 on onward).

Today, two women stumbled upon our food bar by way of Yelp who were passing through on their way to Kansas City to drop off some of their artwork for an exhibit. One of them had just spent time in residency at Kohler learning more about her craft which is figurative sculpture, but not making toilets or baths or sinks. They were lovely to visit with and, oddly, encouraging.

I’ve done my time here. Pleasant dreams.

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