Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Ameoba brain

Writing
source

I've got writing on the brain. It snuck past me like some kind of amoeba in my drinking water; now it's here to party.  (I think I pushed that comparison a little hard just so I could use the word amoeba.  I like words with the o-e combination because they look so cool.  Honestly if I let myself think about it real hard there's a great synesthetic color thing for the letters o and e* that just feels right... but I don't let myself go there or I'd feel too completely nutso.  And also, where are my other fellow children-of-the-1980s?  Are you also picturing Bill Cosby talking to a sick Rudy and saying "party, party, party..."?)

Writing is consuming me.  I'm starting the MFA program at UC Riverside next week.  I just finished reading Bird by Bird.  I'm reading Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close because I got all spun up about this article about fiction and stories of 9/11.  I'm instructing seniors on autobiographical writing for their college application essays.  My freshmen just finished a reflective essay.  All I do is talk about writing or make people do it.  Mer.

Write time, right now.

Maybe since I'm still nervous about starting school I'm trying to surround myself with writing, writing advice, talk about writing... there's no possible way I can anticipate what this will be so there's a bit of straw-grasping beginning to happen.

This must be the verbal equivalent of buying cases of canned corn and rolls of plastic sheeting because G Dubya told you there might be some anthrax in your mailbox.  Word nesting.  Word hoarding.

Oh, and remember that one time I signed up to run my first marathon the week before I started grad school?  Yeah, about that...

Maybe it's just a happy accident that everything I do right now--teaching, reading, coaching Mock Trial--seems linked up like some shiny charm bracelet from The Man Upstairs, a way to remind myself that I already have what I need--readiness-wise--to survive this new challenge (and/or as I've said before,) Dorothy Gale need not go looking any further than her own backyard.  Who knows.

I'm ready for so many things right now.  Ready to push myself as a writer.  Ready to run my marathon.  Ready to be done with running a marathon.  Ready to turn down the volume on the voices of doubt that keep me from really writing about what I really feel.  Ready to get better at this, but first to get really, really, abysmally and embarrassingly bad at it.  Ready to step away from being Mrs. P and the girl from the small town--at least about once every six months or so for eleven days.

Most importantly though, I am SO ready to go to bed.

*If you really want to know, o is white and e is clear.  Hope you can sleep better tonight because you feel glad you're not as crazy as ol' PDawg.  I feel like I just told the world what color chonies I have on.


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