Day 20 -- A Break
Being the faithful and astute reader of this blog that you are, you have undoubtedly noticed that yesterday constituted a break in my 21-day blogathon. Yesterday was Friday and, like just about everyone else I know, I was busy all day and then exhausted in the evening. It was a pleasant exhaustion, born of hard work and honest exercise and enhanced by a feeling of accomplishment over a completed project.
I was lying in bed about 10:15 pm when it hit me. My blog! For a frozen moment I thought of jumping up and rescuing poor Day 19 from its nonexistence. The moment thawed, and I went to sleep, with one of the many useful 12-Step mantras I've learned echoing in my head: Progress, not perfection.
So, this morning you're seeing the fruit of progress (me, writing), but yesterday you saw the full fruit of not perfection (me, not writing).
What was the busyness of yesterday? Especially since I documented a bit of it, I'm happy you asked.
I do believe carrying a camera phone helps me in the be-here-now department. I find myself engaging in what I have long called photographic seeing, which consists of isolating parts of the ongoing visual input (visual onslaught) that is part of being a sensation-recording machine living in this world. Photographic seeing, for me, specializes in details, details that usually come to my attention via a wave of evoked emotion. (This paragraph reminds me of the interminable, often dense and boring wall chats in museums that usually hang next to fairly ordinary photographs and paintings. "My aht comes from a space within me dedicated to the sacred. I am so frigging sensitive that manifestations of my sacred space are more interesting than yours. Especially when it comes to my use of the color blue. Or bleu, as we called it at the IAPA--the Institute of Pretentious Artists--when I was a student there along with Pierre la Fame of Paris pipe-cleaner sculpture fame. That's Paris, France, y'know.)
Where was I?? No more caffeine-fueled posts for me, I promise. Below are three photos that can stand in as a post for Day 19.
Morning. A 4.25-mile run to Emeryville and back. The moon was hugely full, surreal as it set in the west. Found a nice new place to do crunches/bicycle-kick thingies/sissy push-ups.
Lunchtime. Went for a walk in the park near work and inspected the site of a recent tree removal. Even though this missing giant was probably dying and in need of uprooting, looking at this scar on the lawn gave me the same feeling I get when I walk down the meat aisle at Safeway. (Look up "bleeding heart" in the dictionary and you'll find my picture.)
Afternoon. Went for another little walk. Found the antidote for that everything's-dying-a-painful-death feeling. Springtime--giddy with new life, and with fragrance, too.
I was lying in bed about 10:15 pm when it hit me. My blog! For a frozen moment I thought of jumping up and rescuing poor Day 19 from its nonexistence. The moment thawed, and I went to sleep, with one of the many useful 12-Step mantras I've learned echoing in my head: Progress, not perfection.
So, this morning you're seeing the fruit of progress (me, writing), but yesterday you saw the full fruit of not perfection (me, not writing).
What was the busyness of yesterday? Especially since I documented a bit of it, I'm happy you asked.
I do believe carrying a camera phone helps me in the be-here-now department. I find myself engaging in what I have long called photographic seeing, which consists of isolating parts of the ongoing visual input (visual onslaught) that is part of being a sensation-recording machine living in this world. Photographic seeing, for me, specializes in details, details that usually come to my attention via a wave of evoked emotion. (This paragraph reminds me of the interminable, often dense and boring wall chats in museums that usually hang next to fairly ordinary photographs and paintings. "My aht comes from a space within me dedicated to the sacred. I am so frigging sensitive that manifestations of my sacred space are more interesting than yours. Especially when it comes to my use of the color blue. Or bleu, as we called it at the IAPA--the Institute of Pretentious Artists--when I was a student there along with Pierre la Fame of Paris pipe-cleaner sculpture fame. That's Paris, France, y'know.)
Where was I?? No more caffeine-fueled posts for me, I promise. Below are three photos that can stand in as a post for Day 19.
Morning. A 4.25-mile run to Emeryville and back. The moon was hugely full, surreal as it set in the west. Found a nice new place to do crunches/bicycle-kick thingies/sissy push-ups.
Lunchtime. Went for a walk in the park near work and inspected the site of a recent tree removal. Even though this missing giant was probably dying and in need of uprooting, looking at this scar on the lawn gave me the same feeling I get when I walk down the meat aisle at Safeway. (Look up "bleeding heart" in the dictionary and you'll find my picture.)
Afternoon. Went for another little walk. Found the antidote for that everything's-dying-a-painful-death feeling. Springtime--giddy with new life, and with fragrance, too.As for evening, so sorry, but there are no photos of me sawing logs instead of writing. See you here tomorrow --
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