Friday Fragments: Creativity, Anxiety, Travel, and Possessions

--Every morning as I blog, I wonder if I should be doing a different kind of writing.  But I also wonder if I'm creating and perfecting this form of writing--and will anyone care?  I think of the journals of Dorothy Wordsworth, and I think she'd be a blogger, if she was living today--although her poverty might have kept her offline.

--I am trying to think about my successes, not my failures.  In the last few weeks, I could have sent out more of my creative work.  But let me think about the fact that I've done some actual writing.

--I'm listening to the On Point interview with Ethan Hawke.  He talked about working on Boyhood, the movie that was made over 12 years.  He talks about it being a movie that was made without the element of having to sell it.  He says it was like being in your room painting watercolors with your friends or making music on Christmas Eve.  I love that way of talking about making art.

--Yesterday was one of those days when I felt frustrated about the roles I was asked to play at work, and I realized I was frustrated not because I felt they were beneath me, but because they weren't working for me.  I was trying to make technology behave for the people who couldn't come to an Advisory Board meeting and tried to call in.  It took an inordinate amount of time to set up the GotoMeeting software (is it software?), and then the sound didn't work right for the callers, and on and on.  I kept thinking, "Don't we have a tech person to help?"  We used to--that's what's frustrating.

--But we carried on, and we had a meeting that worked as much as it needed to--and eventually, one of the onground participants figured out how to fix the sound.

--Last Thursday night was more fun because it had less glitches.

We had an ice cream social at school to raise money for the Davie-Cooper City Chamber of Commerce scholarship fund that gives students scholarships for college.  There was plenty of opportunity for glitches, but I somehow managed not to stress over it.  Yesterday I felt mildly anxious all day.

--Another possible source of my anxiety:  I'm traveling today.  I'm flying to Asheville for the retreat to plan the Create in Me retreat.  I got a cheap ticket on Allegiant Air.   Part of me is thrilled to be able to zip up there.  Part of me misses the meditative aspect of the 12 hour drive (but I'll get that in October and November).  Part of me dreads the security line.  But I am also looking forward to the chance to read a book.  I'm taking N. K. Jemisin's The Fifth Season with me.

--Later this morning, I'll need to dig the suitcase out of the cottage.  During the July prep time for the Great Flooring Project, I used the suitcases to pack away some off-season clothes that I wouldn't need.  I assumed that the Great Flooring Project would be done by the time I needed them.  Luckily, I know exactly where they are.

--It's interesting to reflect on this time of house reconstruction.  My books have been packed away in the cottage since July (some since late May).  The CDs were packed away too.  I hesitate to admit that I don't miss them in the way I thought I would, which leads me to ask, "Do I  really want to keep them?"

--But I also have this vision of being a little old lady, the one who outlives the rest.  Will that little old lady want to read these books or listen to these CDs?  She might.  What will bring me comfort?