tangles and messes

A few weeks ago, I woke up with a big snarl in the back of my hair. I am talking the size of my hand--half my head in the back. I have no idea what my dreams were to have caused such a mess. And no matter how much I brushed, I could not get the snarl to go completely away. I would comb/brush until the back of my head seemed smooth, no tangles, and then, a few hours later, I would catch a glimpse of myself somewhere with a big lump on the back of my head. The snarl was back! It's like my hair had a life of its own, winding up and twisting together as I sat at my desk or in a meeting. Each time I found it, I would brush it out. It would reappear. I was plagued with the snarl-lump for two days, and then it was. . . just. . .  gone.

This past weekend we purchased a new TV. Since my daughter-in-law moved to another state last week--and she has done everything with technology in our house for the last three years--I was left to be the one to hook up the new TV. It isn't as simple as plugging it in. I had this mass of cords tangled and twisted, some going to the modem, some going to the cable box, and some going to some other box (why do we have so many???). I wasn't even attempting to hook up the DVD or VCR. I finally got the cable to work. Yea! we could watch the game (and it was not even half-time!). Time to order pizza. Oops!  I had done something so we didn't have internet or phone. Great. I called Lindsey, and she tried to talk me through  solving the problem. This box and that cord and "where did you connect the short black cord?" and "are you sure the phone connection is plugged in?"--something I had neglected earlier.  She said to send her a text with a picture of what I'd hooked up to what. (I learned how to attach a photo to a text--I'd only sent pictures with emails before. But now I can't see how to get the photo I took for that to put on here to show the big rats' nest of cables and cords!) Before she could get back to me, I figured it out. But it was a trial. Stressful.

In November I am presenting at NCTE. I am speaking about trends in articles related to writing instruction in English Journal over its last hundred years: what do I see? what patterns? who speaks? who is ahead of the game? what are we still struggling with that was a problem in 1912? So, as part of my preparation, I am reading/reviewing past issues of EJ: 100 years of journals with 8 or more issues a year=a lot of reading and note-taking.

Here are some copies of EJ I have in my office right now, but much of the work is online. It's interesting, absorbing inquiry. But it's a mess. It's too many threads right now--and I can't yet make sense of them. I'm even dreaming about this stuff.

Right now I see my life has a pattern: tangles and messes. All I can do is trust that, like the prior experiences, this one, too, will work itself out. (Well, I actually didn't untangle all the TV cords; I just hid them behind the TV stand. I don't know what that means for my present circumstance.)

time out

It's only the start of the school year, but I'm already thinking of how to combat stress. I can't keep eating cookies as a stress reliever: Dark chocolate chip cookies at Cafe Paesan. Oh my! Already they are in my head, drawing me with their sweet mixture of butter and chocolate, crunch and chew.  I have been resisting. . . so far.

Movies are a way to de-stress. Not DVDs. In-the-theater movies. Where the lights go out and no one phones or drops by. Where my work isn't sitting on the table near me or where the laptop isn't settled on my lap at the same time. In the dark. Giant screen. Total absorption. But there aren't always movies playing that take me on a trip away from stress. (Some even make me feel more stressed. . . )

 I would love a vacation--I know, it's only the second week of school--so that isn't going to happen any time soon. So, I take little mini-vacations in my head. I have a variety of "places" I visit, mental photos of places that relax me: The view from above Sundance when the fall leaves are all sorts of golds and reds against the dark evergreens. The Oregon coast at dusk when sound is as important as sight, waves washing on sand with gold sunlight a trail across the ripples. I visit these places in my head; they settle me and help me relax.
This is my newest addition to the collection:

It's the view from the Jackson Lake Lodge, just outside Yellowstone. I could sit there all day. When I first visited the lodge two years ago, the image of this view stayed with me. I hadn't taken a photo that visit, so as time passed I figured I must have imagined how impressive and relaxing it was. I didn't. This time I took a photo. The view is just amazing: lake, trees, blue sky, marsh grasses, and those peaks. We sat outside (squirrels everywhere) and then inside, spending several hours with this view in front of me. Just reading, thinking, breathing. I could sit there for days.
 I think this photo should be my screen saver. Reminding me to relax. And forget about cookies.

Essential truths

Just found this quote: "Every vivid memory holds some essential truth about your vision of the world." Kim Stafford

Last night we had dinner with friends at Chick's in Heber. It is a small old-fashioned cafe, straight out of the fifties.Something happened that caused me to tell a story about David. Just the day before, he had been telling a neighbor that we had toured the new student housing being built on campus. He couldn't remember the name of the housing development, so he actually repeated the word "toured"--three times--while his mind was trying to recall the name. Except, he pronounced it "turd." I could see the puzzlement on the neighbor's faces, so I re-pronounced the word for them. It clarified--and made us all laugh. So as I was telling this story to our friends, we all started laughing so hard that we were in tears. The whole dinner was like that--funny stories and lots of laughter. There weren't many others in the cafe--two couples left as we came in, another couple came in part way through the meal. They probably thought we were nuts--so much laughing.

I realized as we drove home last night--after saying goodbye to these good friends who now live in another state--that such laughter and fun characterize our friendship. An essential truth about my vision of the world? Laughter and friends should go together. (wish I had a picture I could attach right now!)

outdoor concert

The Utah Symphony in the mountain tops: What could be a better combination? It got a little chilly after the sun set, but it was such a great experience, relaxing and exhilarating at the same time. The mountain air and scenery soothe me; the music moves me. And, of course, there is people-watching: Children running down the hillside along the edges of the crowd as couples sit with baskets and coolers, eating and drinking: cheese and crackers, wine and soft drinks, fried chicken and potato salad.  A guy behind us stretched out on the ground and fell asleep just as the concert started. His snores accompanied the music, but only for a short while. As I listened to the passion of the music and watched the intensity of the performers, I thought: this is what happens when passion and skill come together. Can I do it in my own life? Do I develop skills that can work with my own passions to create something beautiful, something meaningful? I hope so.

10 Books for a Desert Island

I found this prompt for 10 books you'd want with you on a desert island online and thought I'd try it. Now that I've tried it, it's a lot harder than I thought--or maybe I just made it that way.
1. Book of Mormon: isn't the reason self-explanatory?
2. Tale of Two Cities: probably my all-time favorite, or at least my favorite-the-longest. Is it the story? it must be because I don't really care for the style of writing. I think I like the story of redemption.
3. The Thirteenth Tale: I like the rhythm of this book. The language is lyrical and the story swamps me. I can't quite figure it out with one reading. But it's like listening to someone speak a language you don't understand in a soothing voice. I just want to keep listening.
4. People of the Book: I love the structure of this book: each chapter a story of a person/family who had possession of the book, through centuries, all tied together by the book curator discovering their traces in the wine stains and clothing threads left among the pages. I like the style of this writer as well. I could read this again and still find ideas I'd missed. Besides, the book makes me think about things that last, things that matter.
5. Eat Cake: I figure I'll be hungry, so a book with cake recipes and about cake and how cakes save her life and her family sounds like a pretty good choice. The main character never lets trouble get her down. On a desert island (why couldn't it be a dessert island???), that would be a good thing to remember.
6. To Kill a Mockingbird: I've probably read it more times than any other book besides scripture, and I always am happy to read it again.
7. Picnic, Lightning: Poetry makes me pay attention to the little things in the world around me. I really like Billy Collins' poetry, too.
8. Peace Like a River. Slow paced but compelling. I think I would get more out of additional readings.
9. Crossing to Safety. Stegner isn't my favorite, but my only reading of this title still leaves me thoughtful. It, too, could bear re-reading.

10. Hmmm.  I don't know how long I would be on this desert island. I think I would like at least one book I haven't read before--and it should be either something funny and/or something non-fiction: Maybe something by Mary Roach or Bill Bryson, both fun and funny non-fiction writers. I'd take recommendations.

There was a thunderstorm yesterday. It fit my mood. I watched lightning strikes across the valley from my office window--but that wasn't good enough. By the time I got home, the storm was just starting to hit there. Yes! The wind roared and the rain pounded. Big, fat drops of rain. Gabe (my 2 1/2 year old grandson) and I opened the family room doors to watch it and listen to it. I held him up so he could put his arm out into the rain without getting soaked. It was noisy. I loved it.  Gabe looked at me and said, "The rain is my friend." That's what he says all the time now when something or someone is scary: "____ is my friend." I think it comforts him to move the scary person/thing into that role. It's reassuring. I should think of that strategy myself: The audience is my friend. The article I'm trying to write is my friend. Anyway, after watching the storm for a few minutes, we closed the door, shutting out the noisiest elements. Gabe went back to playing cars, and I started dinner. A few minutes later there was a boom of thunder that shook the house. Gabe looked up: "Dinosaurs," he said with wonder. And I thought it was probably what they would sound like, especially just before they charged you. Scary.

writing myself awake

I just read an essay on NWP with the title of this post. It drew me because I feel a little asleep, but not sleepy. The author (Grosskopf) writes of how writing daily made him live his life differently: more aware and more alive. I know daily writing can do this, yet somehow I let days slip by without writing. That isn't altogether true either. I write, a lot, everyday: emails and grocery lists, syllabi and assignment prompts. But that kind of writing doesn't do what the writer of the article explained that regular reflective writing does: help us live life well.  Not as somnambulists. So, when I read the essay, I thought: I need to get back in the habit. I need to carve out the time again.  I wrote daily during Summer Institute--and it did, indeed, make me more aware of life and the moments that matter. This photo is one I took during our walk-and-write--when we stopped in Tangie's for a place to write with some atmosphere. Did the sweet roll taste better because I wrote about it? I don't know, but I know writing about it made me pay attention. And that is what I know daily informal writing can do: make me pay attention to life. So, here I am, back to my goal of writing daily and hoping that, like the author, I will, through daily writing, find "the bounty of inventiveness, and a heightened sense of possibility in my every day." And maybe another sweet roll, too.