I have not been out of the city of Albuquerque since September 12th. Cabin fever has set in. Bad. Tomorrow I’m saved—leaving for a week on the Redneck Riviera (otherwise known as the Florida Panhandle—Panacea to be exact). Christmas with the other family elders—started to say old people but elders has the ring of wisdom as opposed to old (senile/cute) people.
I’m very close to being as excited as when I left in August to go around the world. Amazing what a few months spent entirely within the radius of 13th Street Downtown, North Fourth Art Center and the Healthplex does to one’s perspective of the world.
Today is the first day in this 3 ½ months when I haven’t had a paper to write for one of my classes, an event or visit to go to or prepare for…and then of course there’s work and sleep and the crazy new upstairs neighbor. (http://digg.com/video/why-your-upstairs-neighbors-are-actually-doing-up-there)
Today I am packing and contemplating the return of Time and Place. I so want to make this blog professional-looking and professionally-written. But that takes time and it’s less than a month before my next class starts. I am making serious progress on my book finally—helped along considerably by instructors-as-top-sergeants. My teachers don’t tell me what to write but they do say (forcefully) write write write and they cost a lot. As I’ve said often, inside I’m still the third-grader with hand held high, eager to ‘answer,’ whether I quite understand the question or not.
But I miss blogging when I don’t do it…it’s a reason to take endless photos and chat away. Once again however, I’m making a vow to upgrade to real writing—to craft small pieces that I would be proud to have strangers who are also writers read. I also realize I cannot do that when I’m actually traveling—that would leave no time for experiencing anything but the internet speed and coffee availability in the hotel room.
The new plan is that when I’m ‘someplace’ I just observe, participate in and then record whatever’s around. Then. When I am back home. A few small elegant pieces emerge out of all that blathering. I have a plan. Always there are plans. To make. Fail at. Try again. Occasionally succeed.
A couple of weeks ago my California son came to visit and we walked eight miles in the Bosque. To see if I can walk that far relatively easily since Celia, Teresa and I must do that and then some more next summer in Greenland. I was fine but a more exacting regimen at the gym wouldn’t hurt.
So then. A few photos.