From a Flying J (partially)

6 February 2012 (still): DC Exile Day 13 (still)

Yes. Two posts in one day. Primarily because I was up until about 3 a.m. (MST) and up again around 10 a.m.

Nearly two weeks GF and I have been back in Utah, wondering what will happen next.

Tomorrow (or perhaps Wednesday) begins the true search for jobs.

I was awake last night thinking of jokes and bits and to-do list items and conversations.

Only nine more days until I leave Facebook. Who knows how that will go? It shouldn’t be a big deal, but it feels like it is. More on that in a later post. I promise.

So, for now, please enjoy this picture.

View from Flying J (Tooele Lake Point, UT)

I’d like to absolve the puzzle

6 February 2012: DC Exile Day 13

Thirteen days have passed since GF and I departed DC for her parents’ basement in Ogden, UT. In about half that time, we have done pretty much everything in Utah we wished to do. I saw most of my friends (I still have one more to see), we ate some good food in Salt Lake City, we watched television and I have worn pajamas 85 percent of my waking hours.

I keep trying to write blogs while here, but I get caught up in reading and sitting and talking and staring into the atmosphere and generally being lazy, but not lazy like sitting around drooling and watching mindless television – lazy like doing things other than writing a blog.

Sometimes, writing is one of the more difficult tasks for me. How can I possibly put down all my thoughts? They don’t stop. They don’t break. There are no natural pauses like a conversation or a trial with a court reporter tap-tap tapping the notes of the mostly pre-destined judicial rigmarole.

So, I frequently end up with gaps between blog postings like unfinished pieces of sidewalk in which city planners and city workers realized it would probably just take way too much time to keep building all the way to the next block because then they would have to keep building all the way to the city limits. And what would happen if they reached the city limits and dared to cross into the next city because they still had cement and desire and the sun wasn’t quite low enough in the sky to warrant shuffling back home for potatoes and fish sticks? Would their internal drive force them to build sidewalk forever, covering the entire world like some productive Sisyphus?

I’m frequently afraid of saying too much. That if I ever put out anything creative, I won’t be able to stop and I’ll have to keep going and it will consume my life and my obsessive tendencies will prevent me from ever stopping to say “hello” to anyone again until I have to say hello to get stories for the next thing I want to write.

I just used the “spell check” feature. The dialog box informed me “No writing errors were found.” But isn’t going without writing when your every instinct is to write an error? Perhaps it is, but the semi-sentient internet is attempting to absolve me.

I’ll take what absolution I can get.

Scribbles and bits

20 August 2011

It is technically the 21st. I know this fact. I do not mind.

At approximately 8:30 PM I used the coffee maker to brew a pot of coffee. I then drank four cups with the intention of staying up, listening to music through my headphones and writing a bit.

And, so here I am.

I just signed up to take the GRE in September. As soon as the purchase order went through (at the discounted rate of $80 as opposed to $160) I almost began banging my skinny fists on my table/desk in pure exhilaration.

At the end of earning my Master of Arts, I was convinced I would never want to return to school. Yet, events over the past six years continue to pull my heart in the scholastic direction.

So, at some point in the next two years, I will attend graduate school again, with the hopes of trying my hand (and fingers) at creative writing.

I don’t consider myself a top-notch writer, nor do I even believe I have something clever or original to say. I just like saying stuff.

I read the writing of my friends JP and MP and GF and I think they are so strong and unique and interesting. They continually feed my passion for words and language.

Writing for me is a tactile experience (as is making music). Fingers on keyboard, pen in hand and on paper. Writing feels right.