So it’s early, early morning, and I’m writing. Once upon a time, in my head, I had ideas for many, many stories. Perhaps I still do, but they’re buried somewhere.
For now, what I write about is just what’s going on in my life, which means that I spend a lot of time writing about work.
I have an easy day today. There is a fifth grade field trip, which means that I don’t have a class first period. This is already my easy day, when I have two back-to-back preps second and third period, which means that I have a raft of free time this morning.
Of course, there is always a chance that this raft of free time may go to subbing for other classes. Time will tell.
If I don’t sub, I’ll spend more time with the Code.Org stuff, deciding which parts of it will work for the next eight weeks, and which parts of it won’t. I’m taking a professional development seminar on it this weekend, and I actually think that it’s going to be a whole lot of fun.
There’s this slight, subtle difference between the writing that I do for myself--the writing that stays in my journal--and the writing that I do when I have an eye toward posting it in my blog. It’s a little less personal, and I don’t engage in the same relentless self-analysis that accompanies my journal entries.
I just write differently at the moment. I almost feel, when I write this way, as if I’m writing a letter to about ten people, those friends who read my blog. I know that if they wrote stuff like this, I’d want to read it, so I guess I’m writing for them.
Let’s see. My friend Laura now manages a yoga studio in Los Angeles. I’ve written about Laura before, and how she chucked a high-paying job teaching in New York, and pretty much moved to L.A. without a net; I admire that in a big way.
That’s her on the right.
“So I’m this fifty year-old yoga instructor working with a bunch of kids,” she said. “Who’d have thought it?”
Then there’s my friend Beth, who retired to California and now spends a lot of time making incredibly cool art. One of her major projects involves making dioramas out of books in which she hollows them out. Every time she posts one on Facebook, I smile.
My friend Yvonne is leaving behind a high-paying job in New York and moving to Florida to teach engineering at a branch of FSU in Panama City. She’s a Southern girl, and wants to move back home; she also wants to surf more. She said my moving to Massachusetts without a net inspired her; this made me happy.
I study aikido with my friend Joe, who’s one of the wisest people I know. We keep talking about creating an audio version of Choose Your Own Adventure. Perhaps we’ll do that this summer.
I realize as I’m writing this that I’m kind of skipping around, which is the way I write when I’m writing a letter to someone. Often, when I write a letter, I tend to ramble a bit, the way I’m rambling now in this paragraph. When I do that, I tell people that they can just skip over the paragraph, but of course, I usually tell them they can do this in the last sentence of the paragraph, which means that they have to read it to get to the point where I tell them that they can skip it if they want.
Perhaps it would be better if I began a paragraph by saying “you can skip this paragraph if you want.” Then I could just ramble for a while, creating a sentence that’s really long, one with a lot of commas, semi-colons, and ellipses; I wouldn’t feel too bad about it, because I’d have warned the reader that they could just skip over that sentence...and that they could move to the next paragraph. That would make more sense.
Whatever. All I know is, I’ve written something that’s over 500 words (that’s my minimum for posting length), and I’ve posted it. That counts for something.