An Autobiography of Association

Friday night Michael and I watched the movie The Skeleton Key starring Kate Hudson, who I may say looks so much like her mother in that movie. And somehow she (Kate) actually looks younger now than she did then. Is that possible? Does it run in the family? She has very pretty hair in this movie as well.

Back to my story. Friday night we watched The Skeleton Key and after it was over Michael asked me, now why did you want to watch this movie? I'll tell you why.

Because Thursday afternoon while the children were napping I watched Disney's The Princess and the Frog, which I had never seen before. I typically wouldn't be all that interested in watching a Disney movie, not on my own, but I watched The Princess and the Frog based on the comments I had heard from some of my friends who found the movie too scary to show their children. It's true that there are evil spirits lurking around in the film, as well as blatant hoodoo references. I know that there are a lot of parents out there who are disturbed by the magical content of many of the Disney films and prefer not to show them to their children, and I certainly respect their opinion. But I also observe that the only difference between this film and Disney's typical enchanting fare is that in this case the magic is given its proper shape and form. When Ursula calls upon the powers of the deep to steal Ariel's voice from her, she's messing with the same spirits that Dr. Facilier does in this film, only here they are called by a truer name. For some reason that makes me feel a little better. I don't know whether it should.

It is also true that Tiana is the loveliest Disney Princess that I think I've ever seen.

The Princess and the Frog is set in New Orleans and features some smokin' New Orleans Jazz, which is another thing that attracted me to the film. I like pretty much any music that features horns, and doesn't shy away from some of the more discordant elements. This set me off on a search for some good ole' Harry Connick, Jr. recordings that I don't happen to have on hand: "Blue Light Red Light," produced in 1991; "She," from 1994; and "Star Turtle," produced in 1996.

We used to have "Blue Light Red Light" on cassette tape. I remember listening to it, Michael and I, on our way to Huntsville at some time early in our marriage. I think it took a little while to grow on me. Our copy of "She" disappeared around the time we moved into our current home. I've looked for it periodically, but never found it. I hope that it didn't get jammed up in the CD player that broke all those years ago. "She" was one of the early albums that Michael and I were able to agree upon. We both thought it was pretty cool. "Star Turtle" I am unfamiliar with. I sampled a couple of tracks on grooveshark today (at a friends recommendation--he recommended the website, not the album) and they were odd. It seemed like a bit of a combination of the other two albums I mention here. They were odd, but I think I liked them. I think I do.

What does this have to do with The Skeleton Key? Little more than another musical reference, and the fact that both films feature hoodoo has a story element. Oh, did I forget that they are both set in the area surrounding New Orleans?

My mother owned a record of The Dixie Cups (I'm  not certain it was this one. I don't remember having the cover), which I began listening to in highschool. We picked up an old record player somewhere, and for a short time I was able to rig it to use a needle that didn't exactly fit. (It also had an eight track on it on which we were able to play the single eight track that I owned, something by Barry Manilow. Something with "I Write the Songs" and "Bandstand Boogie" on it maybe? My mother and I learned how to sing "Chapel of Love" together by listening to this record, which we then performed one time only during a school program. I don't know whether she remembers that. Anyway, the last song on the album was "Iko Iko," which was terrifically fun to sing even if the lyrics made me a little uncomfortable. If you've seen The Skeleton Key you'll remember how "Iko Iko" figures in the film.

The Skeleton Key is where I learned the difference between voodoo and hoodoo. I leave you to look that one up for yourself. I don't have any intention of messing with either. Watching these two films, however, as hollywoodized as I'm sure they are, reminded me that I have a minor obsession with black culture, which I'll discuss later. 

And that is how we wound up watching The Skeleton Key on a Friday night. Because of The Princess and the Frog on a Thursday afternoon, because of the music, and because of a friend of mine who turned it off. The very thought of each of these films made me want to pull out the Louisiana cookbook Michael's grandparents gave us as a wedding gift over ten years ago. It's full of food that I will likely never cook, but it's fun to look at occasionally all the same.

Incidentally, my search for Harry Connick Jr's music let me to listened to Patty Griffin on a Saturday afternoon, but that's a whole 'nother chain of detail.

Words and Pictures

I read a lot, and I'd like to find a way to turn that reading into a productive activity. A couple of weeks ago I started writing up my notes and the impressions that hit me as I read, but that didn't last very long. Yesterday I kept thinking about the fact that I don't remember how to write a book review, that is if I ever knew how to write one. I've been trying. I've been writing reviews on Living Social for a while now, but I'm not satisfied with the quality of their content. I have a really hard time summarizing what I read, a hard time incorporating an author's thought into my own in any form other than speech, and that speech is fleeting. I've whined for a while now how about the ineffectuality of reading that doesn't stain the memory for more than a few days or weeks. What good does my reading do me if I can't use it?

I used to be very good at using it. I used to think I knew exactly what these guys were talking about and my memory seemed to have no weaknesses. That was when I was young, and I always, I mean always had a response, had something to say.

You'll notice that I'm not exactly up with the technology. There's got to be an easy way to load pictures of the books I'm reading so you can see them, and not merely read about them. I started looking around for such a thing the other day, but very quickly became discouraged. I typically have five or six books that I'm reading at any given time. So tell me, if you know, what would you use and how does it work?

Early morning at the Foxes

It was six thirty when I finally let them out of their room this morning, Isaac having woken in the very same minute that I did and having subsequently woken his brother. It hasn't been a fun two hours. You may laugh at me, or accuse me of irreverence, but on mornings like this I tend to shake my fist at God and say, "Why don't You care? Doesn't it matter to You that I need my quiet time in the morning. Don't You care that my children need sleep, and I need to escape my obligations for a while and just be still? Don't You think I need a walk, need silence in my life, need the presence of mind that will let me be something more than a lazy slug come 2:00 this afternoon?" I tend to be very honest with Him, you see, and I don't think He really minds. I try to be very honest with myself as well, and spare myself nothing. That one's harder because it is impossible for me to fight fair, when I'm fighting myself. Can you relate? Does anyone out there know what it's like? Frederick Buechner seems to, and Philip Yancey, at least those are the guys I've been reading lately.

Now the children are all breakfasted. Isaac is trying to tell me something about Mickey Mouse and Parker is trying to persuade me to watch him play the Nintendo DS. I don't wake my husband because I don't see any reason why he should be made to get up at 5:00 in the morning just because I choose to. The day has started.

This means, unfortunately, that I may not have the mental energy to insist the children do anything else today. It means another day will pass in which I won't see my way clear to become anything. It wasn't supposed to be like this, you know? I don't know how to get out of this negative cycle.

Hope. There is definitely hope. Don't you for a moment think otherwise. Someday I know I'm going to figure this thing out. Someday there will--be--balance. As difficult as these children can be, they are beautiful, utterly beautiful children. God does care that I'm tired. I know that He does. And it's okay that life is hard. I just don't see any reason to pretend that it isn't. I can't fool Him, and I don't see any reason to try to fool you.

That is all.

Who Needs an Alarm Clock When There's a Bird Sanctuary Less Than a Mile Away?

I wake up at 5:00 every morning. I take my temperature for reasons I won't go into, though many of you already know, or can guess, why I do it. Somehow one or other of my children manage to wake up soon thereafter. Three weeks ago it wasn't nearly this bad. Three weeks ago, if I remember correctly both children slept in until 6:30 or even 7:00. Then things changed and not for the better. This doesn't drive me crazy like it once might have. Mostly now it only makes me sad because I know that I need that time for quiet in the mornings, and I know that I'm not going to get it. The only way I can get it is to turn the boys over to Michael and then go outside to sit in the sun, which in fact does make me happy. Unfortunately I don't do this very often because I don't see why he should have to get up at 5:00 or 5:30 in the morning merely because I choose to.

I didn't realize I was being prophetic many months ago when I said that I could not get up before my children.

I get up early in the morning because sleeping in tends to ruin my day. I do it because, as an introvert, and as a thinker/studier (and I promise you I really and truly can't help it) I require lots of time to myself. I also do it because I'm tired of not being able to sleep at night.

We've tried several tactics to help the children sleep longer. I've put blankets over their windows and taped them to the wall with masking tape so that the morning sun won't invade their room so early. I've used chip clips to secure one of them to the curtain rod, which makes me laugh. I'll get blackout shades for their room once I've finally made up my mind to spend the money. The shades will work a lot better I suspect than a blanket drawn back with a third (and slightly broken) chip clip.

We started putting the children to bed a little early. We did this because Parker was developing dark circles under his eyes and because Isaac was beginning to skip his afternoon nap as often as not. It seems to have helped with nap time (at least I think it has) but mornings haven't gotten any better. I'll continue the experiment at least a few more days to see if that result changes.

Two nights ago we put a fan in their room, a fan that will blow all night, and in the morning mask the sound of the birds, who begin their song around 5:00 as I am getting up. So far Parker has slept a little later, but not Isaac. This morning I was able to persuade them to at least stay in their room until a more reasonable hour, but there was much wailing and gnashing of teeth--on their part mostly, not so much on mine.

The experiment continues.

A Welcome from Outer Space

Yes, it has been a while. So kind of you to notice.

Tonight I sit here, waiting for my husband to come home from setting up the baptistry at church for the baptisms that will be taking place on Sunday, and wondering how the heck we're going to get in all of the hours we were supposed to spend alone together this week. We've been busy. We've been working. We're trying to take charge, at least a little bit, of the new thing that has become our life together. There has been a lot of transitioning over the past eight to nine months. I have yet to understand my place in it all. We've been praying; we've been asking God about it. I can only speak for myself, but I've been instructed again and again to wait, and that's exactly what I have been doing.

Backing up a bit, I'll provide the context for this one-sided conversation I'm trying to have with you tonight. Approximately nine months ago my husband, Michael, went into business for himself. We are Fox Enterprises Limited and we, in the person of Michael Fox, are available to help you with many of your web-based needs. Someday I'll get him to compose a comprehensive list of all the services he provides so that when questioned I'll be able to fool myself into having confidence in the answer I give. These days if you ask me what my brother does for a living I'll say "I don't know exactly." Ask me what my father-in-law does, I'll give the same answer. Ask me what my sister's future plans are, I'll say "I'm not really sure." Is it any wonder I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing either?

Basically Michael and I are on our own and responsible for creating our own momentum. It's been an interesting adjustment. He now works out of our basement most of the day, which means we get some helpful tax deductions come April 15th, and he's available to take the children for me at a moments notice, a privilege I try not to claim too terribly often. It means long hours, but it also means more games with the potential to find a niche because his creativity is free to flow. My husband is also a game designer. Designing games is his passion. He's begun developing two new games in just these past couple of weeks, two games which we've been able to work on play testing together. It is a scary time, because it is in interesting time, but it is a very hopeful time as well. We just have to wait and work and pray. And I have to somehow learn the discipline that will allow me to write and post regularly to this blog, "A Constructive Eclecticism."

In the meantime, Michael has come home from church, and doesn't have to go back on Saturday morning as he had previously planned, significantly increasing the possibility that we will in fact have time alone together during the remainder of the week.

Strategies for Living

A couple of weeks ago I decided it would be a good idea to keep a notebook in the car that I can write in when the mood strikes, as it sometimes does when I have leisure time away from the house.  I had to start a mileage log for tax purposes anyway, so I chose a notebook I could use for both purposes.

Yesterday, as I waited in the van for my friend to meet me for a late afternoon walk, I picked up that little notebook and jotted down my thoughts of the moment.  These had to do with a financial decision I had to make and some paperwork I had to fill out.  But while I jotted those thoughts down I noticed something.

It was really easy to focus long enough to write a quick page while I waited.  The key was that there was nothing else to do.  I thought back to college when I journaled all the time, and I realized that it was easy to journal then because there were so few distractions.  There were long hours or minutes between classes when I could sit down on a bench and write uninterupted, and there was no tantalizing internet access, or ipod, or housework to distract me.  This information could be useful, if I can only figure out how.

Obviously writing cannot be high on my list of priorities at this time.  I do have a family to care for.  But it's also true that writing does matter.  It's something to think about.

Names, Names, Need a New Name

I want to change the name of my blog again.  I'm just not ver satisfied with this current one:

Practice Room: Making Use of the Madness,

although most days that is exactly what I am doing.

The old name was more satisfying, though no longer accurate, as I have two sons instead of one.  And I am happy to have two.

It's funny to think that not long ago I wondered still what Isaac was going to be like, because he was quiet and seemed contemplative, and as my father-in-law observed, he seemed to be examining the world around him, trying to figure out what to make of it.  Now he dives right in.  He's become noisy, and curious and somewhat mischeivious.  He gets into absolutely everything, and as my friend Alina says, he's quiet while he's doing it so that you'd never figure out what was happening if you couldn't get eyes on him immediately.  He likes to jump into mud holes.  He showed no fear of my Aunt's cat even after it scratched him.  He climbs up on the dining room table whenever there's anything up there that looks even slightly interesting.

He's awefully cute.  So is his big brother.

My mother came by and cut their hair today, something I had not yet been brave enough to do myself.  She did an excellent job for not having cut a small, wiggling child's hair in at least fifteen years.

The Long Goodbye...No more room in my life for new shows

I know this sounds funny, because I really do enjoy television, but I'd be glad if several of the television shows I've been watching over the past four years would be canceled.  Relieved even.  When I get on Hulu and look at my queue these days I feel oppressed by the accumulation.  The one show I don't want to be canceled I feel quite sure will be: Haven.  Hulu and Syfy have recently put the show on a 30 day schedule, which means that new episodes won't be made available for streaming until 30 days after they have aired.  The only television show I've watched on the air in a long while is Lost, so you'll understand why this might be difficult for me.  At least the end is in sight.  Soon I will be completely free of broadcast tv as other things in our lives become so much more important.  Can't I give it up easily?  No, as a matter of fact, I can't.  But perhaps I will get to go another three or more years without watching any tv, before the deathly cycle starts all over again.  Then movies will be the thing once more.  There's nothing to be done except to wait and see.

TV ruminations

I think about so many things, on a daily basis, but when I get on here and start to write, it all sort of drifts away, and all I can think of is the silly thing I thought about posting on facebook, as follows:

I considered skipping Desperate Housewives this season, but then I got on Hulu and saw the first five minutes of the season premiere and realized that I LOVE Eva Longoria Parker as Gabby.  I cannot miss her, and I really don't quite know why.  I think it may be because she is Latina.  And because of her profile (the balance of her eyes, nose and chin, because even if I can't analyze them, I recognize these things), and the sound of her voice.  And her character is likeable, even if rather shallow.  And I like her, even though I'm not a girly girl, I really like Gabby.  Wierd.

And then I remembered where I'd seen Mae Whitman before.  I just looked her up on my favorite website, IMDB.com, to confirm.  She was on Arrested Devlopment as George-Michael's grilfriend, Ann Viel, in the two seasons following the first.  I thought of her because there was an episode where she was throwing rotten fruit at the home of Marc Cherry, and because I've been watching Parenthood too.  Yes, I watch these shows, and no, I'm not proud of it.

And of course Mae Whitman made me think of Portia de Rossi, and a character named Rob Loblaw (try saying it ten times fast), and this is an example of how the human mind works, especially the human mind that has spent the past five years watching mass quantities of tv.  Is internet television a blessing or a curse?  You tell me.  I have, in fact, become very good at saying Rob Loblaw ten times  fast, but only because of diligent practice.

Computers, video streaming, etc.

We bought a new laptop computer, and Michael and I have traded so that I am now using the new Dell laptop, while he has taken over the less new Acer.  This seems to work out well for the both of us as he needs the wider screen for web design, and I need the better speakers for what I do, watch a lot of tv.  Actually I have less time for tv lately, which is a good thing. 

I like the smaller screen, smaller keypad, and lighter weight of the Dell, which makes it ever the slightly more portable.  I might take this one with me to the coffee shop, if I ever decided it was worthwhile to write there. I like that it doesn't have any crud under the buttons yet.  And I like that it's cover is blue.  It helps too, since we now need an additional laptop, we already own this one.

Michael bought the Dell laptop almost by mistake.  We were trying to decide whether or not to send it back, when the window of opportunity for that possibility closed.  We thought about selling it on ebay. Now we have a reason to keep it. 

[Parker is momentarily standing in the hallway at 9:15 p.m. trying to convince Michael that he couldn't possibly sleep in his own room tonight.  It would be cuter if he hadn't already been in bed for over an hour and a half.]

As far as the television is concerned, I am practically run over now that the networks have picked up their Fall seasons.  The ability to time-shift viewing patterns is wonderful.  The way the interesting television shows begin to pile up in my Hulu queue is less wonderful.  Because I'm one of those people who actually like television.  Not everyone who watches it does, you know.  Not only do I like it, but I am also usually (if not always) an active viewer of television.  I like movies too.  My mom points out that I don't have to watch them, but don't I?  Is it enough to pretend that I won't pick up any new ones?  Who am I kidding?

Isaac's Antics, No Surprises

Things Isaac threw into the bathtub while I was taking a shower this morning:

my pajamas
several dried out wash cloths that hadn't yet made it to the laundry basket
an almost full bottle of shampoo

I'm glad he didn't notice my Timex watch, which was sitting out on the back of the toilet right within his reach.  We can't close the door to the bathroom just now, can't even jam it shut with out placing a heavy object in front of it, and Isaac has an epic love for throwing things into the toilet, the tub, and the fireplace, I've decided.

Repair Bear, We Hope

A few days ago I posted on facebook that Isaac had thrown his bear into the toilet.  This morning, from a seated position on the floor, in my husband's lap, Isaac lobbed his brother's bear across the room and into the toilet.  Yes, it's true that the bear now smells of pee, but I can't just throw it in the washing machine and here's the reason why.

A few days ago Parker's bear began hemmoraging filling beads from a hole in it's lower back.  This bear is so loved that he has been stitched up numerous times already, and there are runs like you'd get in panty hose all over his back.  His fur is long gone, as is the brown neck ribbon that Parker used to pull at with is teeth.  My husband is now attempting to restuff the bear with filling beads using a drinking straw, which works much better than the paper funnel he originally fashioned.

My son cannot sleep all night without his bear.  He's done it exactly once.  The second time we tried it he woke up in the night looking for his bear.  We are not ready to try the experiment again so soon.  When he finishes the refilling, we'll sew up the hole using travel sewing kit thread.  Then I'll stick him in a lingerie bag and throw him in the washing machine using Tide with Bleach (because that is what I have) and cold water.  I plan to repair the bear with a scrap of fabric held on with semi-permenant fabric glue.  I'm not exactly the patch and mend type, which is why Michael is doing the sewing, and I'll be using whatever fabric I can scavenge.  I'll have to figure out a way to cut the fabric in whatever odd shape is required for fit, keep the fabric from unravelling, and convince Parker not to pull the fabric away with his fingers.  My genius idea for repairing the bear on Thursday was with masking tape.  We really seem to know what we're doing here, don't we?

Kelly LOVES Books

I used to read this blog called Amy Loves Books until the author really started irritating me.  It was a personality issue I think.  But though I decided I didn't like her personally, I admit that I really enjoyed, and was inspired by, her writing.  She must have had something to do with my starting my very own blog.  She was the first ever blogger who I ever followed regularly.  She had an excellent set of posts describing her experience with post-partum depression.

I once commented to her that I thought it was much more interesting to read about what people actually were reading rather than what they would recommend for other to read.  I enjoy reading the occasional trashy novel myself, and I think that fact should humanize me somewhat for those who might be tempted to think I am too serious.  Not that I've read any trashy novels in a while.

I'll tell you what I am reading now, and someday I'll even share what else is on my bookshelf.

I have this awful tendancy to be reading three or four books at once, while simultaneously thinking of six or seven other books I would like to read.  This creates plenty of problems for me.  A typical problem is that I lose track of what in fact I am supposedly reading.

Right now I am reading:

The Secret Garden, by Frances Hodges Burnette.  I read this book when I was young (whatever that means), and I knew that I loved it, but I certainly didn't remember why.  I wondered what sort of power such a book might have now that I'm an adult.  The answer is that it is a wonderful, glorious, inspiring book.  It makes me want to have a garden of my own.  It makes me want to spend lots and lots of time outside.  I am troubled slightly by the racism of the period, but I have to lay that aside, because the rest of the book is spledid.  It makes you want to jump rope, and live an exceedingly healthy life.  Perhaps it romanticizes the purity and power of children to make the grown-up world right, but if it does, while I am reading it, I simply do not care.  I ordered the Norton Critical Edition because I wanted access to the historical information, as well as the critical essays, but I cannot promise that I'll read them before my neighbor's book club meets.

(And of course I wonder what we'll read next.  I have The Brothers Karamzov on my shelf, waiting to be read, but I've also borrowed some Walker Percy fiction from Patrick and Alina, and the latest Diana Gabaldon from my neighbor who has the book club.  I want to read Moby Dick eventually.  I'm less into fiction than usual at the moment, however.)

Studies in Words by C.S. Lewis.  This book is pure linguistics, and I think I've been working on it for a month already.  Honestly it's a bit beyond my comprehension, but it is an enjoyable experience reading some of Lewis's non-religious critical work.  The book is all about the meanings of words, and the ways that they have been used over time.  There's a difference between a word's meaning sometimes and the authorial meaning.  Lewis also indicates something he calls the dangerous meaning of a word, which is a meaning recognized by current readers that was unlikely to exist in the author's time, and the meaning with which a word is most likely to be misimbued. (This sort of writing perhaps makes me sound like an overeducated snob, but it is true that I am interested in such things, and reading this book has awakened me to the treachery of redefining words according to their accepted meanings.  It also makes me realize that I don't always truly know what a word means,even if I have used it a hundred times.)

(I have to go on facebook to see what else I am meant to be reading just now.  And this is one of the reasons why I keep a record on Visual Bookshelf.)

Fear and Trembling by Kierkegaard.  This is a wonderful book and I am absolutely in love with it.  Kierkegaard looks at the story of Abraham's sacrifice of Isaac in the book of Genesis from every possible angle, and in this book he discusses the nature of faith.  I picked the book up because I have this question about what the scriptures mean when they refer to fear of the Lord.  I don't know whether Fear and Trembling will answer that question or not, but it does talk about what it means to live this life in faith, a subject with which I happen to be confronted immediately.  I have a question now, which I asked my husband just the other night.  Does appropriate fear of the Lord preclude fearing His works, or actions?  If anyone reading this has an answer to this question I would be grateful.

Esther: It's Tough Being a Woman, which is a Bible Study by Beth Moore. I've never before done a Beth Moore Bible study, so this is quite a  new experience for me.  A friend invited me to participate in one being held at First United Methodist downtown, and I agreed for several reasons. I like how Beth Moore takes an inductive study method, and breaks it down (or slows it down) into manageable parts for the lay reader.  This far (in week 1) I have enjoyed doing the study immensely, though I have never yet attended a Bible Study meeting at First United Methodist, for reasons of children's health, and even though I don't always agree with Moore's points of emphasis.  I borrowed an Esther commentary from my brother-in-law Wednesday night to supplement the study.

Unofficially I am also reading How to Study Your Bible by Kay Arthur, God Calling by "the two listeners" and publised by A.T. Russell, and I'm studying Esther and Hebrews (for Sunday School) on my own using The Inductive International Study Bible, in which the guiding materials were provided by Kay Arthur.  I've been doing lots and lots of spiritual reading and study recently, and today I found out one of the reasons why, which I may share with my readers ("if any," to quote one of my son Isaac's favorite movies, "The Wizard of Oz.") eventually.  Besides this I am trying to finish my reading of the Bible, and re-read the New Testament by the end of the year.

This is not like me normally, I swear.  There is so much I want to learn, which is a subject I will embark upon at a later date.  For now, Michael is waiting for me to watch a particular program with him before bed.

A Bit of Metablogging to Jumpstart the Process

This is what I call "metablogging." It's basically writing about blogging, and the only way that I've ever been able to get started. When I first started this blog, back in the October after my now four year old son was born, I started with metablogging. I talked about how hard it was to get started, how hard it was to figure out what I should be writing about. Well, here I am, almost three years later, wondering how to get started. I've hardly been able to write at all since before my 21 month old son was born.
 I keep telling people: It's been hard to write even a basic email for months and months and months. My friend Alina assures me that it's the left-over hormones from pregnancy and breastfeeding that have done this to me. Ever since she told me that, I suppose I've used it as an excuse for not getting started. I've tried posting to the blog on numerous occasions, but I've been tired, or sleep-deprived, or maybe only too easily frustrated to get in there and do it.

I've tried writing things that weren't meant for publication. I've tried taking down my thoughts as they came to me. One morning I typed up a report of sorts concerning an experiment in prayer I was undertaking, but it all came to nothing.

A few days ago, my cousin, who is a successful freelance writer, posted something about a website where you can to post 750 words of freewriting. It's a tool for writers to sort of warm themselves up for the real work that is supposed to fill their day. I'm unwilling to subscribe to the service, because I have some unanswered questions about it, but the idea is imminently sound, and at some point I will probably succumb. It's the same sort of thing Peter Elbow promotes. Peter Elbow, whose book Everyone Can Write: Essays Toward a Hopeful Theory of Writing and Teaching Writing, I recently read, is a major advocate of the freewriting exercise, the premise being that successful writers need to do lots and lots of writing, not all of it anxiety ridden. He also argues that college students need low stakes outlets for writing, so that it becomes an habit and not merely an exercise in requirement. There are some lovely quotes from Elbow which I shared on facebook. Maybe I should go back and repost them here, where they can be read and remembered.

Note:  If you look back over my older posts you'll notice that the metablogging is always done in italics.  Something about that just makes me feel good.

Friends Help

A friend gave me a book and some verses yesterday, because I had asked her to help me memorize some things that would help with some difficulties I have been experiencing lately.  The first one really hit me, probably because I had never read it in quite that form before (or maybe I had only never noticed it at all, or applied it, etc.)

Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day.  For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.  II Corinthians 4:16-17.