Drop in, Drop Out

"I think of fiction as a controlled hallucination." - Russell Banks

This quote charges me up everytime. A child of the 60's, 70's, I get it, Russell. It can be while brushing the teeth or watching the wash cycle go 'round, and 'round, and 'round, and then boom! like the sweetest acid trip, I'm back into the story. "Write it like this," the voice tells me, and I listen. Finally a movie opens up in my head and unwinds the old way, from one reel to another, and tells my story. Made up and smacking of life, I, on a hallucinagenic trip, tell my story. And best of all, I can still order a slice and throw the loads into the dryer and not feel like the sky indeed is falling. Bring it on if it is, I am writing, again.

Restoring the Wood

It's nearly ten pm on a chilly Sunday evening in February. My apartment has been clutter cleaned, waxed, dusted, glass-cleaned, and the toilet has enough chlorox squabbed through it to pass any military inspection. The dishes are done and my older daughter is asleep on our futon and my younger one I hear is playing poker and doing homework in Boston. There's a pint of frozen vanilla yogurt in the freezer and Leila tells me I am looking skinny. The brownies, and smores, and rocky road ice cream sucked down on this break - and still, yes, I feel skinnier. Something is going on. I recommend lifting and moving heavy objects and clutter cleaning an awnry closet to burn up the fat!

Last night I reached into my holey heart and found, viola, my angst, my utter, I am here and alone, and the place looks great, but still sits here the root of my most major clean up: my laying down the pen to paper and talking about this utter, utter bone crushing feeling of what? What drives me to eat, go out for walks, quickie trips to Eckerd's for diet Coke (or worse yet - circus peanuts), the need to do all of the above in the first paragraph!? I realized last night, as Kenny Loggins sings, "This is it. You are going no further."

And so I picked up my pen and once again the novel proceeded. Like a mule left by the post, my novel plodded along again, simply waiting for the mulehand to begin. My story sputtered along until I realized I was really cutting through the clutter of my life. It was not as harsh or hard as I thought: it simply needed to be told and on a Saturday night with all my housework done ( don't even want to hear about the two rooms still needing varnish), I started the next leg of my novel. I am learning not to sweat how much comes out but more to let the rhythm come out and when it is done, it tells me, and I humbly stop. But most of all, I am learning my mood is better afterwards. Like an addict needs to inject or take in his or her substance of choice, I need to let it out: Let the words out and onto the paper.

It's like butter and I am grateful. For all this around me and about me I am grateful.

Weight Loss Program

Randomly had the tv on for white noise yesterday as I finished my syllabi for the upcoming semester. Oprah was on. She had a professional organizer on, if that's what you call it. I watched a family's home, immensely cluttered, shocking. The guru cleaned them up in three days. But it was what he said that got me going: clutter anywhere in your life makes a statement about something about you. Well, duh. I have my living room pretty darn clutter free and I feel good here, as do friends and Leila and Sarah, when home. But there is clutter shoved away in both bedrooms; the single closet holds three computers, good, but no longer in use. My younger brother has been giving us his used computers since we moved to NYC, and I'm thankful, but with each upgrade, I remain holding the older one and they have built up. I've got material on them, possibly, so I am keeping them for now. But Oprah got me thinking: I have to remove all clutter, maybe not as wildly huge as the family on her show, but big enough for a NY apartment.

I knew I had to tackle that closet and the rest would unravel and reinvention would come to me once again. Yes, you heard me right: I have ONE closet in my apartment. Welcome to New York. I knew this was going to have to become the pivotal point of my organizational recreation.

So I started last night and collapsed into bed after taking a bath, sweaty clothes in the corner beside broken printers,a fried iMac, and speakers and stands. A huge pile of clutter on top of Leila's bed, but the closet in Sarah's room is cleaned out. This morning, I've written a long laundry list of what to do with each room. I've made myself a healthy breakfast burrito of eggs, cheese, celery, one whole tomato, onions, and jalepenos. I'm drinking coffee; got the music on, and waiting for the charge to start again.

What I love to do most.

Getting Bigger

My hopes in working for the next four months free and clear of the classroom didn't work out. But that's okay. I know there are no mistakes. Probably, this will be my best semester ever. I'm going to return the money graciously given to me through my campaign and carry on. Chris, who sweetly gave me $50, for him I am going to buy as many of his cds as I can with his money and return it to him that way and then have Holiday gifts ready to put away. I plan to be ready for the Holiday season of 07, by golly! To my daughter, Leila, who kindly gave me $200, I will simply place it back into her bank account. She will say, "no" but she is young and growing her business and her faith is what propels me.

I have begun to see the ways in which to use my talents to their fullest. I have signed up with a freelance network that is affordable and looks very enticing and profitable. I receive emails from Georgeanne who sends "an article a day" advice and man, is it just what I need! I am currently working on six articles at once, all that I am interested in and methodically able to construct. I signed up for a two-week free trial to learn about stocks and trading with that madman Jim Cramer. I like his passion and after showing my classes "The Pursuit of Happyness" eight (8) times! realized that I, too, am intrigued by the Stock Market and want to be "happy" like the rest of the money generating people of this World. I choose to do it ethically, and think I will go with PAX, who another teacher told me about.

Things are looking up.

I'm headed into school to snatch up my W-2 and see what Uncle Sam might let me keep. It will pay the bills and rent.

I am thankful.

Last but not least, back to my next semester. My syllabi for Comp I and II are coming together organically. I have been a teacher at this school for two and a half years and all the experimenting, listening to other teachers, and failures are leading me to a crystalline format. As I said, I think it will be my best semester ever.

The novel will continue to be written, as well. It is a part of me now. I am pregnant with book.

Peace and love.