Running on Fumes

 It's been the kind of morning (week?  season?  year?) when I stare at the computer screen and think, I used to be a writer.  I'm not feeling particularly inspired as this week draws to a close.  But let me collect some fragments and see if I can get a sense of a larger picture.

--Let me remember that I have been doing some tending to my writing life.  I've sent out some packets of poems.  I submitted my poetry manuscript to CavanKerry Press.

--I have been enjoying watching the full moon set as I stare out of my west facing windows these past few mornings.

--My home computer has been very sluggish this week.  It's consumed some of my writing time as I sit here, waiting for my computer to catch up.  Grr.

--While I've been waiting for my computer, I've been reading Natalie Goldberg's The True Secret of Writing.  It's been long enough since I've read her that I have really been enjoying this book, by which I mean it seems new and fresh, even though they're the same ideas she's been advocating for decades.  At some point, I may try to capture some of the ideas in this book that seem new and fresh.  Or maybe I'll let them slide away.

--Part of my exhaustion/emptiness comes from being around too many people all week long.  For example, the fire inspector came to my campus, and I had to take her to every room because the doors are all locked these days.  She had to look at every plug (no lie), exit sign, and emergency light.  She had to push on every stairwell door.  She made notes.  She also had a non-stop commentary for the hour + time we were together; I now know more about fire safety than I ever knew before. We have also had more Corporate folks at campus this week than ever before.

--Part of my exhaustion/emptiness comes from not having a clear vision about the future.  A week ago, my boss was let go, and I'm still not sure of the larger implications.  Soon my school will have new owners, and I'm still not sure of the implications.

--I am missing people who are gone and past times when I felt like I was flourishing more than I am now, and this week, those missings are a bit more fierce.  I am realizing how much that missing is often thrumming in the background.  I'm not sure what to do with that knowledge or if there's anything that needs to be done.  I am aware of the undertone of grief that comes with later midlife, but startled to hear it in my life.

--I am wishing for a change in the weather, and it's just unrelentingly sultry here.  The weather is sultry, and I am sulky.  I am dreaming of a house in the mountains.

--I am realizing that if I had only myself to consider, I would make completely different choices.  Very little of my current life would remain as it is.  I am unsettled in that realization.