I think it is likely that I ahve already written five hundred words today with my work project, but the nature of the work project has left me in need of a bet of a vent so here we are, attempting to be creative with our bloggerie.
It is not hard work. Not especially, except in that it is incredibly hard work to try and cull minutiae about history as though I am cramming for an exam. I am putting together historical signage for our show to give each tree a bit of a background for its vignette. I do not know if this is exactly how others would do this, but I have ended up not doing a single sing for each piece, but three. One for history, one for art and culture, and one for Christmas trivia. It needs to be accurate in so far as Google-fu has a basic accuracy test – does this look legit and can I share it without demanding anyone treat it as fact? It also needs to be pithy and not require lengthy explanation. It also needs to be interesting enough to be worth letting people know about. To have inherent meaning that helps to frame the idea of these trees. It also needs to not be too much about death or Presidential blowjobs or anything that a seven-year-old can’t pass by without being traumatized. That’s harder than it seems when it comes to American history. This is for every decade between 1890 and today. I have been working on it off and on over the last few months, not initially expecting the project to turn into something that needs to be displayed. Now that the deadline is tomorrow, end of day, I am feeling like a kid in school, trying to force into my brain a sudden knowledge of Everything.
Working this much, it’s the way it used to be, but it is helping with the rest of it. The rest of it being the personal vision that I forget about when I’m being pressed into brain cider, when I’m all a’worry. There’s a busyness right now that is dangerous, but in carefully siphoned doses, is helpful. It keeps out the bulk of the anxiety. I have written back some of those folks I’ve left on tenterhooks, business-wise. I have accepted tasks, and I have worked hard to be kind and present. I know I just have to roll forward and I am, but there does need to be room to remember the new year, the new plans, the tongues in mouths, the hands on shirts, the screaming and the wailing and the comfortable silences ahead. When I find myself feeling electrical, I turn the power off. I don’t sit there anymore, frying. Not lately. I just can’t do it even though it asks to happen again and again. Driving tomorrow, after we get gas, I guess.
There is ahead to find comfort in.
Popcorn and coloring and peace and me taking my geography tests.