From each moment.
Or you’re only an existing organism.
Sit down.
Take in a view.
All of it.
Focus on your vision for you.
Then, tirelessly pursue.
Decision.
I will go forward with this re-focusing on my teaching for a number of reasons. One, is selfish, of course, wanting to feel that sensation of satisfaction, the feeling at the end of the day that reminds you you’re doing something significant. Second, the students. Maybe they should be first, but either way they are what keep me coming back to teaching, to the classroom, to grading papers and reacting to what they write for sakes of strengthening them, helping them feel more confident and comfortable in their reading and writing. And, to explore the act of teaching. The past few semesters I questioned if I was even teaching students anything, suggesting that I’, ore of an idea and motivation generator than anything. But, maybe I’m not crediting myself enough. Maybe I do actually teach. Huh….
When I was a high school student, my English teachers were a bit above average, looking back now more critically and as an educator of over 10 years. But one, Mr. Sullivan, my Creative Writing teacher as it happens, was the sole teaching character and presence that convinced me that teaching should be what I do. And, do forever, professionally and personally.
So I start a new trek, I guess. I’ve said this before, I know. But this is different. This time, it’s altogether unlike the others. Is it because I’m so close to 40? I don’t know. Maybe. But, just know, I’m leaving the wine world, industry and business, all of it, to teach. “He’s just in the moment, he’ll change his mind.” I can hear someone saying. No, sorry. Not this occasion. This isn’t just another occasion of self-realization or actualization. This is a decision. One definite, defining, final.
Still have my sections for Fall, at the JC. Have to order books, or select them first. If I WERE to get onto a high school campus by Fall, of course things could change. But, I would like to keep that evening 1A section, get more of my instructional fix.
…but I feel something like it about my character and creative practice, have for the past few days. Tired of work, working… only want to read, read to people and hopefully put ideas in the mental arenas of all listening.
Met a character recently who’s struggling with a new job, at the age of nearly 50. WILL. NOT. BE. ME.
Never. I’m sticking to my verses, music… will record something today, somehow, at some point. Thinking in the tasting room after everyone’s gone. Have to find the time to record. There’s no excuse not to. 08:41…. More time to write. Can get out something, just one more short verse before leaving….
Finishes second track. 09:00. Can put off departure 20 minutes, at most. Friend doesn’t show till after 11 which means I’ll have the room to self, to write and collect. Need to keep the tracks coming. Need to live from my words, get out of the goddamn room…
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Slept in a little.
24 hours of fasting. Cause? Didn’t eat at all really, yesterday, then got Chinese takeout from an amazing restaurant down the street–or, down San Miguel then to Waltzer, then Marlow and Piner–and had a bit too much. Not a revolting amount, but too much for such a desert of a stomach. Having coffee on floor, and thinking about everything. Work, this house, my car, writing… I’m very much at the drawing board. And I think I found something. An idea first birthed in my fascinations of having my own wine label and tasting room. Too afraid to write it, as I don’t want it hexed. But I’m working this morning, not wallowing. Not me. Not this poet.
Just realized fasting won’t last 24 hours as I have dinner plans at parents’, later. Just eat light. Little to no wine, and only wine. More water. Want that full marathon later this year. But I have to train more. I know. Tonight I’ll make it to the gym. Run, maybe diversify with some weights. Wine is a symbol of life, and I would purposefully contend health. At the drawing board, I’m seeing more, more… Today, my day off, but not letting it be any kids of ‘off’. I will stay at this drawing board till I’m not thinking about everything as I now am.
Write it all down.
Everything. Every thought, possibility, impulse, question.
#WildWednesday thought…
Start the day assured and convinced of your character, your story. Study your character’s steps and thoughts… learn from YOU.
You hold far more gems than you estimate. Step, and study. Make today something utterly different than any other that before it came. Recognize and self-ratify in your new reality.
(6/13/16)
from morning’s jots
…one thing on writing, if a student professes to me on how much more they want to write “better’, then they have to study their writing. Each sentence. So much is answered and disclosed in a sentence, a singular idea, anything singular on the page. Me learning more about self after 39, today 9th full day of living in 39’s beat. So I try to outrun it, the number, and time itself, this time on the computer in the upper right corner, write with and against it.
What I‘ve gathered in being in educational posture and pose, there’s always something to hear, learn and write. This morning, like a class to itself, and I only have 15 more minutes till my next class. In the tasting room. May have to take a lunch today, as this famine feeling is starting to reach me, land in each one of the key pushes and tells, sounds, my beat repeat replete with core groans.
Wrote the word “LIGHT” in journal, today’s page like I say to student. The light in your writing, what you want to learn, or find, or see yourself do. Writing isn’t an art, it isn’t a skill, or craft, it’s the individual and integral in what they do from breathe to breathe. Not what they do but who they are. Writers are the act of writing, not the title “Writer”. It happens, words on a page without the writer even noticing, really. And if they do notice, they study as they scribe…