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Tag Archives: reading

Energy, Creative, Spent. On.

17 Friday Nov 2017

Posted by Kristine in Uncategorized

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creativity, energy, fiction, furnace, home, politics, potted plant, reading, Shogun, silence, writing

I’ve heard it said that one should be careful what they put their energy into.  Perhaps you’ve seen the meme that cautions who you invite into your soul, or the reminder that Karma did, indeed, see what you did.  “Be careful what you put your energy into tonight, darling,” I think to myself as I write.  It doesn’t all have to be lofty and worthy, but is it worth the energy I believe it might?  Yes. No. Maybe.

The silence of this place is more precious to me than the clean water that patters into the steel sink. Why not use the cliche of more precious than gold? Because you know me better than that. Only my fingertips tapping and my eardrum’s tinnitus breaks the silence. Here comes a helicopter (helo) beating its way over this little spit of land, soon to cross the bay and RTB.  This helo sounds awful, one blade out of tune, I’ve never heard that before, and I wonder, and I wonder if my energy should care.

My plants are repotted. The floors smell of citrus. I dug this fuzzy sweater from the box that hides beneath my bed, baby blue that made me sweat when I took a little walk earlier this evening. Finding shelly treasures require extra scouting these days. All good use of my energy, but why should you care?

My little green oil burner fills this space with the scent of something vague but peaceful. It’s not the loud, spotlight-stealing scent of sage, or the typical pumpkin or vanilla stuff we’re “supposed” to be burning this time of year. I stare at the tea light flame and think of the advice I gave to a friend. She is struggling. So hard. She is a potted plant who hears a wild life calling in the distance. The energy I give her is not a waste of time. It’s just not the right time.  I spent a lot of time thinking about this and conclude that I respect the woman she is, the woman she chooses to be, because to do otherwise would be harmful to us both.

I have used a great deal of energy reading two books of political non-fiction. I pat myself on the back for reading out of my comfort zone, for finishing what I began though in places I wanted to throw them across the room, and for recognizing that I am ready to stop using my energy on this quest now. I sought wisdom, some kind of understanding for the politics of our day trying to make sense of it all. The books were good, but they left me feeling like a little bit of knowledge is a dangerous thing.  Who knew maybe it was a bad idea to take a bite from the fruit of that tree? My furnace is ready to burn for better things now.

What I’ve produced in my recent writings are for personal use, so much sorting, so many questions and no wrong answers.  A good use of my energy, I believe.  I’m ready to turn back to writing fictions, pleasures, dragons, warriors, to create a world I can understand, a world where I’m not being held hostage by my government.  And I’m set to re-read “Shogun” because it’s been calling at me for quite some time.

PS: The refrigerator is running, breaking the silence, and that is just all right.

She Sleeps Without Knowing

11 Tuesday Apr 2017

Posted by Kristine in Uncategorized

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Anne Rice, books, evolving, impatience, Margaret Atwood, reading, The Handmaid's Tale, woman

I had an interesting job once. First half of my day was concerned with production and warehouse actions. The second half, I was sequestered in an office-cube concerned with logistics, paperwork, and billing. It was during those evening hours in the office-cube, after the mad scramble to get it all stacked, counted, packed, and shipped, that I fed my addiction. I was glued to a book. I couldn’t put it down. I stowed it in file cabinet and peeked at it constantly because you did NOT want to be caught with anything on your desk other than desk work. Right now I can’t remember which Anne Rice novel it was, more’s the pity. It was either The Mummy or The Witching Hour.  Either way, something was happening on those pages, it was all unfolding, leaving me behind, and I had to know what was going on!  Every time a stack of invoices had to print, I read the book with my arms dangling in the file cabinet, gleaning words, hoping to catch up on what was going on without me, looking over my shoulder.

My spouse will attest to my impatience, my inability to close the book, set it aside and get a good night’s sleep. It will be there, waiting for me when it’s time.  Yeah, as if.  I admit my New York tendencies like standing before the microwave waiting for leftovers to heat up, vibrating, and copping to the phrase, “Hurry! I don’t have all minute!”  I recognize my impatience. I laugh knowingly at my behavior, a symptom of something that I recognize and try to shake off better than my Dad did. Anyway.  It’s tough to be in the bowels of the night, red numbers of the digital clock counting down minutes you have before you really have to put that book down and get a few minutes sleep–work tomorrow.  Three chapters away, I peek at the end of the book because I have to know that my heroine survives this night.  Or if she succumbs.  I read the end of the book like an addict in an alley so I can get through the day and fill in the rest at leisure, because to do otherwise my heart might explode.  “She couldn’t sleep without knowing,” said her silly epitaph.

I bought a pile of books, and it is tempting to read them in succession, all at once. I have the ability to do so but, interestingly, I have not. I’m taking my time with them because digestion, assimilation, means more to me now than the hungry girl I was. I read “The Handmaid’s Tale,” but not really. I read the fleshed out Cliff Notes story way back before I understood what female means. So many years have passed, so many changes (or things that stayed unchanged.)  One can’t read “Women Who Run With Wolves” and ignore our ancient mother’s tales… or Margaret Atwood.

I approached “The Handmaid’s Tale” as I would any story I felt was important, reading it when I was calm and focused.  Seemed like it took me a long time to get halfway through the book, remembering next to nothing about it, so every page was new. I read the story between the “life” things.  I got halfway through and felt that alarmist urge creeping in: “Read it all now, it’s all happening, will she live or die?” I made a pact with myself to settle all the paperwork that languished on my desk, and once that was done, I would spend the day or however long it took to finish the story. A double gift.

There were several endings I foresaw for June. Yes, I call her June and not her assigned name. I needed to know what fate had in store for her, as if my own fate was tied to hers. Would she succumb and remain a faithful servant of Gilead? Would she commit suicide, or burn down the house where she lived and kill them all?  Would her indiscretions be discovered, and what awful price would she pay?  This is the first time in a long time I let a book go.  I let it all happen without me. I read each page consecutively, patiently, not skipping to the end because I couldn’t bear to live without knowing. Probably everyone wouldn’t think this is a big deal. Everyone puts down their books (if they read) and sleeps at night, not worried about Offred.   I finished the book yesterday, right in its time, and it gives me another lifetime of things to think upon.

History Written By The Victors

11 Saturday Feb 2017

Posted by Kristine in Uncategorized

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history, laundry, race, reading, truth

So the day got off to a late start. The weekend looms, and I have a “date” to run around the mall on Monday with a friend which means I’ll be needing some clean clothes.  Ran a few errands, pulled into the laundromat, tucked my clothes into the washers and sat outside in 45 degree weather to see the sights.  Today was the first time since I’ve been here that I clearly saw the first opening to the Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel. Usually it’s obscured by weather, but today it was clear as could be, so I took a few pictures to savor the memory.  A few days ago I took pictures of the breakwater rocks, their naked bottoms covered in green moss, exposed by a super low tide, but few would appreciate a picture of mossy rocks unless they watched them as I do.

Once my fingers got too cold I retreated inside and watched the History channel where a couple of guys excavated an antique motorcycle for restoration.  I watched ladies load their laundry and leave, knowing they’ll be back in 28 minutes.  Some stay and put each and every blouse on a hanger, sort and fold each and every washcloth, towel, sock, and shirt, then carry their burdens to their car alone.

Today at the laundromat I saw a young man reading a thick book while wearing headphones.  It’s not often I see people read, let alone young people, let alone a thick book. I was intrigued. I like to know what people are reading, and why.  I grabbed one load out of the dryer and as I passed by I touched the table to get his attention and asked, “What are you reading?” He pulled off his headphones and he was happy to share the title, “The Untold History of the United States.”  I had many questions and appreciated his answers.  We covered a lot of ground in a short time.  I hope to meet him again and see where he is with his reading.  We shook hands and exchanged names, similar, too similar, and I couldn’t help but acknowledge the irony.

He is black and I am white. Does this change how you view this blog post?  We are both looking to enrich ourselves. We both know that Ivanka’s clothing line is the least of this world’s concerns.  We seek to understand because there’s so much more to life than what the media feeds us. How does that make you feel?

September 15

15 Tuesday Sep 2015

Posted by Kristine in Uncategorized

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Tags

not writing, reading

Not really in the right mental space to create, so I do believe today is going to be a reading day.  And what shall she read, today, Girls and Boys?  “Boating For Dummies,” The Sun Magazine, and “The Ultimate Weird Tales of Clark Ashton Smith.”

Another Learning Writing Day

23 Sunday Aug 2015

Posted by Kristine in Uncategorized

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evolving, progress, reading

So writing is contingent upon reading.   And no work can ever be produced if you neither write nor read.  This is old news. I’m not reporting a newsflash from the Great Beyond.

My reading habits are improving, going from not reading anything to reading the same books over and over to reading things I’d never looked at before. I have the fortune and blessing to be surrounded by writers, authors, and editors who DO read and share their favorite tomes. My eye, right now, is on “What makes it a great article, a fantastic story? What was it about that piece that got it published?”  My job is not to mimic that story or article.   My job is to make sure it’s good enough to go out into the world.  I used to run around panting “Get published! Get more published!” Submitted material not quite on a whim, but not exactly with enough behind me to have a real chance.  This is evolving.

Full disclosure: I don’t plan on reading the classics or what’s on the best sellers list right now. I don’t plan on becoming a literary fiction aficionado. That’s not who I am. I do plan on reading a broader range of stories so I can practice sitting still, letting my mind focus on the words unfolding, holding everything else at bay, and enjoy the story.

Learning how to keep the arse in the seat, keeping the mind focused down here on the page instead of on the trauma going on all around me, ALLOWING what’s real to rise up and seep out onto the page (which takes a lot of bravery), is my daily job.

Did I just say that?

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