Thursday, September 19, 2013

the littles

I've been going through work, editing and smoothing out pieces to submit. Crazy how much old writing I have, pieces I wrote as long as ten years ago. I'm sending out one piece in particular that I've loved a long, long time. It's about traveling in my early twenties, the voice is precise to where I was at that time. I love that writing is often a time capsule. But the time capsule aspect also can make me a little crazy. I want to keep the authenticity of the experience, those younger years of drawn out emotion, the heavy sighs, the confusion. There also is a part of me that wants to go back to the writing and take back the edges, cloak the rawness a little but then I fear that I'm masking the authenticity as well.

This morning I had a bit of a rough spot. There was a family dinner last night, cousins were in town and I drank too much wine and was roaring a bit this morning. I drove H to school. He usually takes the bus but I was feeling wah-wah and told him I'd drive him so he could spend an extra hour at home. Enter headache and stomach issues. And hitting every red light on the way to school. Poor H probably would have rather been on the bus than in the car with me as I snapped at traffic and bemoaned everything. On the way back I realized I had to get out of the mood. I made myself appreciate something about every house or person I passed.  It went like this:

Hello house, you're a lovely shade of yellow.

Oh bougainvillea, you are so pink today.

Ah yard, look at all those toys. Your children must be so happy.

Sir, those shoes look comfortable.

Look at you, graceful Palm tree, home to so many birds.

Crow, you fly.

By the time I got home my roar had diminished to a mumble. It was a nice little practice to get me out of myself. I think I'll try it again.

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