A Hidden Well

quick, mostly pointless update

Today's Quote: "A musician must make music, an artist must paint, a poet must write if he is ultimately to be at peace with himself.  What one can be, one must be.  - Abraham Maslow

Since we've established that I'm just going to be skimming the surface, here goes nothing.

I've been fighting a cold since Saturday.  The cold is winning.  I'm pretty sure it's just a cold and not something worse, like the flu, but nevertheless it's left me me totally run down.  I've done little more than sleep for the past few days.  Today I am up and about, but just barely.  I'm hoping to be feeling better by Thanksgiving.  If I'm going to consume a calorie laden turkey dinner, I'd like to be able to actually taste it.  I enjoy Thanksgiving mostly because I view it as a "warm up" for Christmas.  I've been preparing for Christmas in small ways for the past several months, but after Thanksgiving I can go full steam ahead.  Surprisingly, decorating for Christmas is not something I particularly enjoy.  I appreciate the decorations, and am delighted once the decorating is done, but I don't at all like the process. It feels messy and chaotic, and it makes me stressed and impatient.  What I like best about Christmas is making hand made gifts, sending Christmas cards, baking cookies, and planning get-togethers.  Okay . . . I had planned on writing more, but I'm just not "feeling it".  Plus, Casey has very nicely asked me to sit on the couch with him to watch Go Diego Go.  I've decided to take him up on the offer, as it appeals to me far more than finger painting, which he will undoubtedly ask for next.

Cannot Predict Now

Today's Quote: "I long, as does every human being, to be at home where ever I find myself." - Maya Angelou

How ironic that my newly found free time just happens to coincide with the most enormous case of writer's block I've ever experienced in all my life. (Or is it not ironic?  Ever since Alanis Morissette's infamous misuse of the term, I'm never quite sure what's ironic and what isn't.)  Ironic or not, it's definitely unfortunate.  A shame.  A pity.  A crime. Between the hours of 8:30 - 11:30 each morning I am alone in the house.  Sure, there are days when I run errands or have appointments, but for the most part if I want to be at home writing, I can be.  And yet I'm not.  I struggle for every word.  I've toiled laboriously over the last ten sentences, and they're not even good!

I'm not at all sure what this block is all about.  Someone suggested that presently I want only to scratch the surface, unwilling to dig deeper.  And let's face it, I've never really been a skim along the surface kind of writer.  I am, by nature, a deep well.  If I'm reluctant to explore the depths, then I just don't have all that much to say.  It's as simple as that.  What's not simple -- what confounds me -- is why.  Why am I suddenly so reticent to look within?  Why now?  And, almost as importantly, how long will it last?  Because the thing is, not writing has a far greater impact than just disappointing the handful of you who check this blog daily hoping for an update.  While I am flattered and deeply humbled that people find my life interesting enough to follow, my unwillingness to write concerns me for a bigger reason. Only when I write do I really know myself.  When I'm not writing I'm like a water strider skating over the surface of a pond.  I am aware only of what is right in front of me.  And for some that is enough.  For some that is plenty.  But not for me.  Skimming the surface of life leaves me with a hungry hollow in the center of my being, a dull ache where there was once a thrumming buzz of energy in my solar plexus. 

Is there an easy answer to this?  A simple explanation?  Probably not. I do know that the best way to become a writer once again is simply to start writing.  To pick up a pen, or in my case, to sit down at the computer and put my fingers to the keyboard every single day, whether I think I've got anything worth writing or not.  I know this, but will I do it?  I'm not sure.  As the Virtual Magic Eight Ball says, "Cannot Predict Now."

nada

Apparently, I just have nothing to say.  What's up with that?

Bah.

Today's Quote: "Never permit a dichotomy to rule your life, a dichotomy in which you hate what you do so you can have pleasure in your spare time. Look for a situation in which your work will give you as much happiness as your spare time." - Pablo Picasso 

This morning Casey had a temper tantrum the likes of which I've never seen before and I hope never to see again.  I've seen lots of temper tantrums in my life -- even had a few myself, truth be told -- but never, ever have I witnessed anything like Casey's behavior this morning.  He was like a wild animal caught in a trap.  He screamed, thrashed, flailed, kicked, and fought us with a strength almost super-human.  All because he decided he didn't want to go to school.  We were insistent that he go because we didn't want to set a precedent that if he cries and protests he can stay home.  So we wrestled him, literally, into his clothes, which I can assure you was no easy feat.  We then wrestled him into his car seat while he continued to thrash and scream so fervently that any neighbors who might have been sleeping were surely no longer.  He cried and screamed so violently that I was certain he was going to make himself throw up.  He didn't.  Instead he peed his pants.  So he won.  Glenn was already late for work, and it would have taken another 20 minutes to get Casey out of the wet pants and into clean ones.  So Glenn left and I put Casey's pajamas back on him -- although he insisted on keeping his shoes on -- and I made him go back to bed.  Which, surprisingly, he quite willingly did.  So I fgure he's either coming down with a cold or was just plain exhausted after tantruming all morning,  His consequence is that he cannot watch tv all day.  Unfortunately this is also very much a punsihment for ME, because I will have to deal with his protests all day long.  But I'll do it, because I must, and becuse it's the right thing to do.  And tomorrow, come hell or high water, unless he spikes a fever or pukes, he is going to school.

empty well

i want to write a poem,

but the well from which i draw words has gone dry.

i carefully lower the bucket

into its depths, hoping to draw from within its dark belly

if not a poem

then perhaps some phrases,

the moisture of even a few scant words.

i pull up the bucket with hopeful optimism

and raise it thirstily to my lips

i tilt my head back expectantly

and wait for the cool refreshment of words

on my throat.

but the bucket is empty,

as empty as it was yesterday and the day before that.

i want to write a poem

but the word well has gone dry and once again

i return home

parched

and yearning.

 - gina campellone  november, 2008

YES!

I'm crying like a baby!  Big, fat, joyful tears of celebration and relief.  I am so happy.  There are no words.

History in the Making

What an awesome day. It's 6:30 AM and I've been awake since 4:30, filled with eager anticipation.  I'm off to vote!  I think I can expect to stand in a very long line.  But I'm okay with that.  In fact, I'm delighted to do so.  It means people are getting out to vote!  Go Obama!

on the money

At risk of offending my Republican friends (and yes, this bleeding heart liberal does have a few friends who actually vote Republican -oh the horror) this was Jack's Halloween costume.  Love it!

random facts #s 41 - 50

Today's Quote: "A bird doesn't sing because it has an answer, it sings because it has a song." --Maya Angelou

(I hope I don't begin to repeat myself in my attempt to list 100 random facts.  It sounds easy enough, but I'm finding it rather challenging to come up with 100 things about myself that are interesting enough to bother sharing.)

41. I find it very difficult to make decisions.  (However, my husband finds it even more difficult.)

42. I've slept on a waterbed for the past ten years.  I love it, but unfortunately I think it has destroyed the possibility of ever sleeping well on any other mattress.  Regular mattresses are all way too hard.

43.  I once wanted to be a published writer, but over the years my confidence in my writing ability has significantly eroded. 

44.  I love word games.  I am currently addicted to Pathwords on Facebook.

45.  I am way more stubborn than most people realize.

46.  Pink makes me happy.

47.  I love long car trips.

48.  I love yard sales (or "tag sales", as they are called here in CT).

49.  I was born with a double hernia.

50.  I thoroughly enjoy the process of writing and sending out Christmas cards.