Jordan and Meredith Quartermain tie, I think, for the best experiences I've had in Influency so far. I took the class because I didn't recognize all of the authors on the curriculum (4 out of 9 were familiar, I think), but the chance to see Jordan read was a huge draw as well. Watching him fight through the words is excruciatingly beautiful. I am not sure I'll ever get tired of it.
I've also had to bury myself in work a bit lately, since we're in the midst of one of the four small crunches that happen each year, and nothing lets me slip into intellectual oblivion like pushing myself to produce. At least, that's what I though. But the work, while absorbing, has a bit of a pattern to it. Unlike composing, my higher lobes are often left free to wander, and as a result I end up working though a lot in my mind while my hands adn discursive, surface mind are busy. It's a lot like knitting or crochet, the latter of which I'd like to pick up again.
I am picking up things again. I am starting to see myself, slowly and tentatively, looking for new projects, planning things, even being slightly eager to pitch in. It's an exciting prospect, as it means I've healed even more, but it also makes me nervous. It's an impulse I have to keep carefully in check. I am finally sleeping a bit at night, like humans do, and I don't want to go wrecking any newly-sprouted healthy patterns just yet.
Labels: Family and Friends, Literary Events
