Friday, July 16, 2010

Trout fishing all over the place

"Finding is losing something else. I think about, perhaps even mourn, what I lost to find this." ~Richard Brautigan

I apologize if the nature of this blog is no longer knitterly enough--more than ever I feel that these notes are out into a void--but I am really liking this whole inspired-by-a-quote method of prompts. Also, over at Transatlantic Enchilada, I have posted a couple of new "losers" from last year.

Speaking of last year, it really felt like I lost a lot while I was in it. I have to remember to include the factor of perception, since, in a grander scheme (even from just a slightly elevated viewpoint) I still had a roof over my head, a car to drive to my job, food to eat, and a very charming gentleman caller to take me out on dates. But I did lose my unemployment (and with it, the chance to keep going to school for another semester), my place in Austin, and ultimately my -first- chance at grad school. I also lost several writing competitions and lotteries. It seems like last January was a lifetime ago, while last July just a few months back.

I have been in Arizona almost exactly a year. And I have discovered a lot--about writing, about birds and stars, about being in love, about patience. I lost some material things, some of my optimism, and the certainty of my direction while I found new sources of inspiration, new gray hairs, and expressive paragraphs. I'd have to say that while it has been a difficult exchange, it would be wrong of me to call it unfair.

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

My over-developed wishbone

"Never grow a wishbone, daughter, where your backbone ought to be." ~ Clementine Paddleford

First and foremost, let us rejoice that such an amazing name exists to be rolled across one's tongue. Clementine! Paddleford! How could she possibly have been a boring woman? She couldn't, and wasn't. I wrote up a little post about her over at my day job: (it will be up on Friday).

In thinking about the quote above, though, it occurs to me that I have indeed grown a wildly scoliotic wishbone. My wishes have twisted around my spine like kudzu, taking the place of muscle and nerve. And so these muscles these nerves, little used, atrophy. I wake up some days full of ideas yet go to bed scared and unaccomplished. Every small success seems to come with two failures these days, and I become terrified to try anything.

There was a time when things were stressful and stretched in a different way; when at least the day to day expenses of living were taken care of, and it was only my mind that was wasting away. Now my mind, over alert, is wasted for four hours on the bus each day. Trying to read or knit amid the elbows and knees of the summer working classes becomes a battle of mind over nose. There are treatises and essays I'd like to write, if only my car would stop breaking and just ONE piece of real writing would make a buck, so I could take a day off to do it.

Regardless. The writing continues. One of my older essays, after much brutal (though necessary) cropping, has been accepted by Sea Stories. I am totally stoked, as I tried to get into this journal over a year ago, just before they lost funding and went dark. They are back up, and I am among some really accomplished writers and artists. Check it out:

And for fun, I wrote up some drinks recipes with the help of a local bar over at Venuszine: Red, White, and Blueberries (it's not the 4th, but bloody marys are always in season).

As does the knitting. I pulled my Jo Sharp tank back out of the corner. It was being punished for bad behavior, also known as "unintentional and random short-rowing". I pulled back two balls of yarn (and 10 inches!) and have gotten nearly back to where I started. Pictures? I am not that organized, still, in the new place--but some high speed internet I can't possibly afford will be up on Thursday, so hope abounds amid the crushing heat, broken auto parts, and leftovers AGAIN.