40 minutes. To do something. To write something. New writing spot. Sipping coffee at new spot, but that’s expected for me. The goal today is Newness, new routines and habits. Just coming here is a musical start. Write something, I tell myself… WRITE SOMETHING. How about, about being a student. How I envy their freedom, and their incoming transitions, the Newness they see semester to semester. As the instructor of record, I observe, and like with last semester, with the ‘5’ crew, I learn. Envy, but more learning. As I only have 40 minutes, I have to be incredibly accurate with this meditation. My lifestyle, what do I want in it? Is this a “lifestyle blog”? What’s my lifestyle, other than being a teacher and writer? Come on.. you only have 40 minutes to figure this out! Runner… Father… Healthy liver, life-lover. Think I may order a vegetarian sand’ before I leave here, the Dry Creek General Store. Sitting at a long raw and rustic, purist wooden table, but in an odd spot with this odd and old floor, every time someone walks behind me and to my left, to the back office, this whole fucking table shakes. But it doesn’t shake the curious and fiery student, teacher, liver.. right, their wine rack. Not interested. And, honestly, wine doesn’t excite me the way it used to. I mean, how much can you write about wine? Now, winery stories, like Debra’s or Glenn’s, and the vineyard itself, I’ll never exhaust from. I’ll never get tired of taking a couple minutes from the tasting room and walking outside listening to the wind’s light taps in and out of the canopies.
What can I do at the winery, in terms of ‘health’, or ‘fitness’? How ‘bout a walk at lunch break, just down the dirt path, video it, narrate, share my moments? Don’t want to promise anything, or plan, as that’s usually when the writer gets into trouble, or at least looks like an ass. Again sipping coffee… What happened to my 25fitwrit idea? Nothing! In fact, thought about it on the run yesterday, actually during the .7-mile cool down walk. Still feel the run this A.M.. And back to today, what I can do while at the winery… drink water. LOTS of water. Have to use the restroom as much as you can. Stay hydrated, revived. Be connected to water and your body’s need for it.
Budgeting— Spent $2 on the coffee. That’s all I anticipating spending for the day, now I think about it more closely, as I brought a tortellini bowl Alice bought, and some snacks, those little Ritz bites with cheese à l’intérieur. But that’s all I’ll eat— oh, but I have to pay Collyn back for the Himalayan food he picked up for the writer, the other day, Tuesday.
An older lady thinks about sitting at the other end of the table, where I was considering moving as the employee that I asked for their wifi code told me the reception was better down there. Doesn’t seem to be problematic where I now sit, and the lady set down her purse and coffee and walked around me to the gift wall ahead of me and left, shaking the floor, this table and my laptop. I shook my head, not caring if she saw.
26-something minutes. Are you kidding me? Ignored. Table shake again… and again.. FUCK! Leave me alone! Now stillness, quietude, imagining what I’ll do else when at work— more shaking, more more— Not sure this place will cut it as one of my writing spots, but I do it this morning as something different needed to transpire. I’ll keep a list as well today like I did Tuesday (which I still need to post to blog..). Challenge to Self, for MY happiness campaign: ten words every hour, starting at 10, just after I in-clock.
FRENCH WORD: la table.
You guessed it, I’m sure, TABLE. A word the same in two languages, suggesting universality, denoting and connoting a bound nature of Human Experience, where we writers and artists, STUDENTS and teachers gather. To collect ourselves, to finalize our submissions, to perfect our projects, project ourselves into whatever future we want. Our drawing board and space.
Was so into my writing, and out of my immediacy, that now three ladies sit at the other end of the table, and they speak loud, like everyone should experience their interactions. Like a play, and this McCoy Tyner track, “Illuminations”, helps them illuminate so much about life, my life, my story and studentdom. Life is cruelly curt, I always offer to students, and this reminds. These ladies, easily in mid 60s. Me, bitching about 37 a couple weeks ago, and yes just the other day.
I change the station on Pandora to something a bit more modern, digital and atmospheric— “…I dream about, where the sun never goes out…where we can begin again…at the edge of the ocean, we can start over again…” Edge of the Ocean, by Ivy. Have always loved this track, how calm and sonic, massaging and zenning it is. I remember listening to it to relax and detach, driving to that shitty downtown Napa job at ‘the box’, in ’11— Still need to find those journals, write every single detail in the them, about how I was treated, how all Humans, especially Creatives, should stay away from offices, cubes.
The ladies disappear from the music, from me, and I just listen. Not sure how much time I have left and I don’t care. If I’m a couple minutes late, the winery will survive. Another ambient/electronica track surfaces after Ivy’s, and I’m more relaxed, imagining myself traveling, waiting for a plane somewhere, just jotting some words and notes into my Comp Book— reading other bloggers like some of the ones I discovered and yesterday studied. Speaking of— flash nonfiction. Write a piece at lunch. 300 words. One image. No more. So I guess that nixes the walk idea, no?
I can have both. Cette table taught me so—