= IN-BETWEEN DAYS =
Ok...Here's how it's been unfolding on my designated writing days:
Drop off Lisa. Return home. Consider organizational duties. Consider fleeting personal appeasement (along the lines of Playstation 2, downloading files, or listening to ambient noise trickle in from the neighborhood...the passing commuter rail train is my FAVORITE...) Consider writing.
Opt for appeasement. Later...
Reconsider organizational duties. Reconsider writing. Consider, as a concession, ANOTHER artistic outlet (Touch up a nice, dusty tune...maybe learn that a-ha song from that 2nd album).
Opt for appeasement. Later still...
Reconsider why I don't just work at Target (at least I'd get a discount on things to take my mind off of writing). Reconsider organizational duties. Consider that dreaded moment of glancing at the clock and realizing it's dark out for a reason. Opt out
I call this technique the "dance", and (I assume) it takes YEARS to perfect. Just ask all those veteran performance artists ("Anyone can smash a pumpkin, but it takes a true master craftsman to get the pieces to look just right!"...or something like that, or nothing like that...)
Essentially, I'm inventing new and less-than-exciting ways to prove that I'm a bum.
So, what do I do? Well, as a true pseudo-scientist, I start observing other people's processes to see if I can glean some alternate techniques. First subject: my DOG, Larry.
= LARRY =
Larry is our 7 month old Bichon Frise. We inherited him from Lisa's ailing Uncle. I have to admit, wouldn't have been my first choice in companion breed but, thankfully, just because something hadn't occurred to me doesn't mean it's not a good idea. In fact, a majority of the things I enjoy never initially occurred to me. I guess I have my generation to blame for that, right X'ers!?! Hello?!?! (God, I hate hip generational classifications, even though I'm a big fan of Douglas Coupland...moving on...)
Larry is a very good idea. Having a friendly, fluffy entity going about and establishing it's own processes is a welcome addition to my home. As I observe his development (and try to have a hand in it as well), I get to witness first hand the purest form of discovery and learning. He is fearless and friendly, gregarious but protective. Every person he sees is the first person he's ever met, and he is most appreciative. He growls slowly to be let out at 2am. He barks at ghosts at 3am. He is perfectly content to be held like a baby, but he is equally at home with running full tilt down the hill of our street and exploring the bushes outside the VFW.
He has his (equally endearing) weaknesses as well. He can barrel up any flight of stairs, but stares unmoving at the descent. He hates to be left alone...barks loudly and continuously until we show up. He chews EVERYTHING, with a particular affinity for tearing paper into hundreds of pieces.
What I see (and what I am, admittedly, a bit envious of) is that he does things because the reward is two-fold: he finds true joy in it, and he discovers.
Later, he will understand restraint and consequences and, perhaps, embarrassment (although I doubt the latter). Now, though, the world is new and interesting and BIG.
So, basically, I want to be where Larry is again. I can almost
remember how it was...there's just so much left to shed if I want to get there. So much time homicide to atone for (or to just forget altogether).
It's foggy outside. Larry and I are going for a walk. I don't think he's seen the train station yet.