Pilgrimming

I look out my window at Seattle and reaffirm my love for her…

even as something in my wise gut tells me she probably doesn’t have me for keeps. So much of me just wants to hunker down in this city and end my twenties here and build my thirties here. I adore her; she was the first city I really ever fell for. Before that, I never considered myself a city girl. I liked wide-open spaces. Too much pavement made my soul feel claustrophobic.

This weekend I traveled to Yakima, Washington for a wedding, and I remembered again how restful I feel with wide-open landscape, crickets in the evening, and the conspicuous absence of sirens. My friends and I built a fort and slept outside on the porch; somehow, it felt like being a kid again, and I loved it. Who knew little old Yakima, Washington could sweep me off my feet? I wish I could rent a cabin and have a writing retreat there. I want to hear crickets, drink evening tea, and write stories.

This next weekend I am traveling again, but this time to a city– Indianapolis. This will be my second trip back to the Mid-west in 3 months to attend a conference. I love exploring a new place and I so admire the women who are putting on the conference, so I am pretty thrilled at the chance to go. The conference is on Christian Feminism (and you thought that was an oxymoron.) It is run by the Evangelical and Ecumenical Women’s Caucus; I found out in early June that a full scholarship (including my airfare and hotel) was being provided for me. Incredible!

I will be meeting some wonderful writers (including Letha Dawson Scanzoni, a new friend of mine), as well as hopefully talking with some professors of Women’s Studies and Literature. I noticed several of the speakers at the conference have backgrounds in the academic disciplines in which I am interested.

It is time for me to get serious about graduate school applications in the fall. I am currently looking at programs in Literature and Cultural Studies, which would let me look at books as cultural artifacts, and then I could bring in studies of psychology, religion and feminism. My heart starts to flutter when I imagine being back in a classroom. It is hard for me to stay out for too long…but the process of being accepted in somewhere won’t be easy. And the process of being open to moving will take some time in my heart, too.

For Your Viewing Pleasure

So, I think this 3-minute youtube clip is hilarious.

Maybe you have to be an aspiring writer to think it's so funny. I am not sure. But every time I want to distract myself from writing, I am tempted to watch this...again.

Ted.com

Have you discovered this web site? You need to.

There are fabulous 20 minute talks by some of the world's most interesting people. Who doesn't have 20 minutes to be inspired?

I recommend the talk by Malcom Gladwell on how to be happy. You can click here to listen.

Oh gosh, I still have such a writer-crush on this guy. His great hair, his high-anxiety body language, his New York Times bestselling books...so adorable. I thought I had transferred my crush to Yann Martel, but I am smitten all over again by Malcolm.

Sigh.

Words on Words

What I have learned about words is that they don’t respond well to control. They prefer surrender and freedom. They ask that I trust them a bit more. As Anne Lamott says, they wouldn’t mind if I would just learn that it is ok to make a mess. It is perfectly alright to splatter them over the page and trust…because the subconscious force of writing, that force which makes all the surprise and the energy, gets locked up when I am afraid of coloring outside the lines.

If words are my paint, and the page is my canvass, than I am invited to stand before the easel quite differently– than, say, if my words were little controlled specimens in a lab experiment. Last summer, when I finger painted for the first time since I was 7, I tasted something of this messy, colorful process that I would like to try with my words on a page.

But, as far as I can tell, there are two reasons I don’t trust making a mess. Very basically, I don’t trust I can clean it up. I am just learning to believe that in the disorder something will emerge that guides the telling of the story, and that I can trust the story. And the second reason I fear messes, is that I feel out of control and I simply hate looking at incompletion. I get anxious when I have to look down on the “shitty first draft” as Anne Lamott dubs it. I like to be in control (I know that will shock most of you.) And so, it is fascinating that I, at the moment, seem to be choosing words for my life vocation.

I spend most of my days wrestling with them; they are quite devilish.

My Writing Retreat

It was a lovely weekend by the sea.

I took another writing retreat (these are getting more common in my life), but this one was much more restful and rejuvenating. I admit, I was rather proud of myself, because I think I am getting much better at cultivating a creative process that is actually enjoyable, and not just obsessive and exhausting. Last time I went to the cabin to write, I took one sorry little excursion away from my computer. This time, I allowed myself ample time to roam around the cliffs overlooking the sea, read poetry, lay in the sunshine, and make delicious food. I usually gave myself three writing sessions a day that were about 1-2 hours long; I discovered that having limits for my work time and giving myself rewards was a much happier and even more efficient way to go.

I had such a delightful time, AND I wrote some decent stuff. I think writing is getting easier for me…slowly.

The illustrious Mr. Rigsby joined me for a day, as well, and my stomach muscles are still sore from laughing so much. He wins the award for the person most likely to crack me up. He did a good job of letting me work, and he did a good job of encouraging me to go lay by the pool, too. Mr. Rigsby is very skilled at loafing–among his other talents, of course– so he is teaching me how also to loaf. The first hot sunshine of the summer was an excellent invitation to leave the cabin, abandon my words, and just go play outside. As usual, I have beaten Mr. Rigsby at acquiring the first summer tan (don’t worry, I even use sunscreen), and I am still as vain as ever about this 13 year competition between us.

All in all, it was very hard to come back from the weekend. When I got home last night, I bought dinner and sat out on the grass at 10 p.m., just sort of picnicking on a beautiful summer evening and refusing to go inside. These summer days are glorious, but the summer nights might be even more exquisite. Last evening, there was that warm, refreshing breeze that I haven’t felt since last August.

Introducing Nick Vu

I have been meaning to introduce Nick Vu to you for quite a while, because he is going to be famous, and it will be extraordinarily fun for me that you first heard about him on my blog. Nick Vu is one of those people who is destined to catalyze large-scale social trends, like the tech genius who started Facebook or the unknown mastermind who got legions of men to sport the faux hawk in cities across America. Nick Vu is currently working on a top-secret project, and you can go to http://waxartistic.com/ to find out more.

Nick Vu is also one of the founding members of West Wing, a group of 4 of us who meet twice a month to provide support to each other as we envision and create what we want in our lives. (This group has been absolutely necessary for me as I write my book.) Each of us is taking risks towards our goals, and we check in on our fears, our desires, our dreams, our roadblocks, and our sleeping strategies. (Some of us are a wee bit obsessive compulsive, so we need to be reminded to sleep.)

Nick Vu is trained in cognitive behavioral psychology. He likes data and charts, and so he is good for the rest of us. All the other members of West Wing are trained in interpersonal therapy, so we like to talk at great length about the deep treasure trove of our unconscious and how it's effecting our style of relating, but Nick Vu wants to make Excel spreadsheets of whether we met our goals for the week. He balances us out, and we balance him out, so it’s very good.

You should also know that Nick Vu also raids the public libraries more than anyone I know. He averages about 50 books a year, which he listens to on CDs or his IPod. The man has brilliant ideas churning in his head.

And finally, you should know that Nick Vu comes over to my house every Monday morning for a 2.5-hour study hall and then a lunch break. We set our timers and we work; he works on his top-secret project, and I work on my book. We are very studious and there is very little talking. At 11:45, we break for lunch. He brings random ingredients, we look through my cupboards for more random ingredients, and we create culinary masterpieces. Nick Vu actually enjoys eating as much as I do. One day, I think he and I should write a cookbook together.

(And yes, for some reason it has become fashionable for us to refer always to one other with our surnames included. He calls me KimGeorge, like it's one word.)

New Article

I have a new article up at theooze.com for those interested. It is on domestic violence, so not exactly happy reading. I think I need my next article to be about the happier sides of life...but for those interested in DV, here it is.

I didn't exactly get rave reviews on the last article I wrote for them (one reader pretty much condemned me to hell), so things can only get better, right? Here goes....