Promises To Keep, And The Best Intentions
Like many people, I have sometimes made promises I didn’t keep (such as my promise to myself to write consistently on my blog). And like most of us, I have never wanted this mistake to become a habit. My kids might beg to differ, depending on their mood and/or which pet they’re remembering with angst-laced fondness, but I insist: my promise-keeping intentions are sterling (notice my most recent: a new crazy-eyed pet, Ophelia Evangeline The Fluffy. “Kitten” for short).
So sterling, in fact, that in order not to break them, I mostly refrain from making any promises at all. Fear of commitment, maybe. But it’s an honest fear.
I am making this promise to myself one more time: I will write daily. Whether my words reach Everyday Bloom or not, I will write. If it’s only one paragraph on the back of an envelope, a quick sketch of five little neighbor girls parading down the sidewalk with an empty refrigerator box covering their heads— like five child-sized, wayward pallbearers who’ve lost their way in a funeral parade— even if it is only to record this, I will write. Every day (which to me means…what… roughly five times a week? Four?), I will write.
I’ve also promised myself to do art– sketch or paint or glue rocks to jars– for at least twenty minutes every day. On the train on Saturday, I sketched the faces of two oblivious passengers. Trivia: One had a wonderfully long nose, reminding me of a more hipster Roger from 101 Dalmatians.
Today I will sketch… zinnias, I think.
Whew. Yikes. These are serious promises to make. But with Everyday Bloom as my witness, I commit.
Or Not. Regarding Loose Ends and Starting Places…
But that’s not all. Well, it’s all of the committing, but it’s not all of the writing. Last week, while I stalled, I Googled “writing tips”. Aside: According to several prominent advice-giving authors, Googling when you’re trying to write is counter-productive. Their counsel? Stay away from mindless distractions, namely the internet (also ironing pillowslips and alphabetizing recipes). Anyway, I read that it’s best to stop writing while you’re on a roll, while there’s still something left to say. The idea being that the next time you sit down to write, you have a place to start.
Last Winter, I Went to College. I took two classes, both of which required a lot of writing. Short stories, commentaries on literary masterpieces. Delightful, incredibly fulfilling. The results will both be fun to share here, and will offer a leaping off point for further writing.
Last Summer, I Visited Several Cemeteries, Narrowly Escaped Shipwreck, Met a Man Who Carves Horses, Read (And Finished) “Great Expectations”, and Grew Magical Pumpkins. Other Things happened too, like Ophelia Evangeline the Fluffy (aka Kitten, who is, even as I type, nipping at my elbow for attention), Roadtrips with Daughters, Adventures With Sisters and Friends, and Extreme Seamstressing, or The Sewing of Many Bodices. Look at all the things there are to write about!
Also I Started Taking French on Duo. Which isn’t going well; once I got past the first few lessons, I began making so many mistakes that I got kicked off the app until the next day (Duo’s way of encouraging its users to buy credits, which I won’t). I have to wait a day before I can start each lesson over again. Sort of like Groundhog Day, with less French and no donuts.
That is all. Adieu for now.