A spoonful o’ this, a slice o’ that …
Bad News Blogging
Ohhh maaaaaaannn! The exact words upon reading first thing this morning that a friend and fellow blogger has taken down his blog. His writing’s excellent, his intelligence obvious, his thoughts provoking. Ain’t right to deprive the world this way, I responded. I understand of course his reasons for removing it yet well-written and -articulated blogs are few and far between. If you can write, you’ve a duty to share of that gift.
The world suffers enough for illiteracy and REALLY BAD WRITING. Even most everyday common writing is crap and if not bad, then mediocre at best by a hair. So B, if you’re reading, this isn’t directed to you specifically, friend to friend (though there’s an element of it), rather is delivered on behalf of the greater whole. The world needs your voice, your particular, peculiar and personal thoughts and perspectives, and if not on a blog, then somewhere. (And somewhere where I can source/read it! 😀 :D) You’ve a duty to keep puttin’ it out there.
There, I’m done.
Home for the Holidays. Uhhh ….
Searching for new digs during the holidays is a new experience. Definitely differs from searches at other times of the year. Despite my efforts to forward the move-out date into mid-January in a heart-to-heart (on my part anyhow) discussion with Daniel the owner, no go.
So Dec. 30, smack dab between Christmas and New Year’s, it is. Not the 31st. Not the 1st. But the 30th. Oh brother.
Anyhow, still not happy about it but he’s the owner and there’s nothing I can do without unpleasant consequences. It’s definitely a slow rental market. Not many ads — no surprise there — and responses are few, according to those renting out the rooms. In sum, the downside is low supply; the upside is reduced “competition” for space.
10 days and not counting, not only because I’d sooner forget this move but have my focus and attention on holiday creations. Speaking of which …
Fluke or Birth of a Tradition?
Every year I make my cards, as regular readers know. I’ve not given a store-bought card since I don’t know when. It’s labor-intensive and a labor of love, very much so. Plus since I don’t do gifts save for a couple individuals, small simple gifts, preferably homemade and always from the heart, the cards are my primary Christmas celebration.
This year they took on a new direction: the circular. Rest assured, it reads nothing like the conventional “Bobby, 9, is now on the soccer team and Marion, 11, just started piano lessons and we vacationed in the Grand Canyon in July.”
The circular was born of the magnitude and exceptionalism of 2011. Whether this marks the start of a tradition or a fluke only time and life’s future direction will tell. I will say this: producing a circular encompassing the breadth, depth and extremes of a chapter I truly care not to relive is a challenge. The bar for my own work is set very high.
The awareness of who’s reading also can’t be ignored; some are longtime friends with no knowledge, some are friends with some knowledge, some are family with no knowledge, quite the mishmash. The circular needed to be personal yet tempered by reserve and strong needs for privacy. A fine line to negotiate; definitely not a dash-and-go project. Fortunately the time needed was afforded by these days off.
I’ll admit, it’s a little scary, opening up and exposing even a little about the Tacoma chapter, the hardship and impoverishment (though I never used that word, now that I think about it).
On the other hand, it had to be done. It’s a force greater than I. The stories, experience and trauma held tightly within are beginning to trickle out, whether I want them to or not. Purge is the word that sprang to mind.
I’ve no idea how the recipients, admittedly a small of circle of no more than 10, will respond. That’s scary too. Writing isn’t scary; the exposure of self by it is.
Fuckin’ lots easier to pen a card insert about Bobby and Marion! …