The Voyages of the Jolly Roger

I am considering writing a young adult book in iambic pentameter. The story and I have wrestled for nearly a year without success, but now I wonder if blank verse may give it the structure it needs.

More research is needed.

Time well spent

Awake once more -- in a panic realizing that I had neglected an urgent work email, now three days overdue. Despite how much of my time in New York is spent preparing for the next school year, I don't want to be burdened by fall just yet.

Presently I wonder how Seurat writing will fit into the everyday scramble of job, family, home life, college, and faith community, once I return. Given the pressing nature of living, it seems likely that writing will take a low priority, regardless of its overwhelming spiritual and emotional benefits. Writing regenerates; but, sadly, it also takes time.

Is there enough time to be creative?

Is there enough time to neglect creativity?

Hauling tail back to Maryland

Sleeping has taken the edge of despair off my plans for the trip home, but I still worry. The subway, train, subway, subway and bus rides to bring my 70 lb suitcase to Queens could have been the twisted plotline from a dark comedy. Amtrak would not check my bag, and they were none too pleased to let me muscle it onto the train, since it did not fit down the narrow aisles. Upon arrival at Penn Station, I hauled enough junk through unfamiliar Manhattan territory to make a gypsy proud. I clunked my way up and down any number of stairwells before discovering the elevator like it was a gift from Divine Providence.


Observers probably thought I had a body in my luggage -- which, incidentally, would make a great film plot.


I leave on Saturday, and the number of solutions to the stuff problem is staggering. Ship things home? (If so, which items should I entrust to the postal service?) Purchase a smaller, lighter suitcase? Give away most of my clothes and purchase new ones when I return? Living in New York indefinitely is probably not the best conclusion, though the simplicity is remarkably alluring.

After effectively and accidentally moving myself to Pacific time (despite a lack of travel), I'm now too tired to write anything amazing. I am knitting a pair of variegated teal and purple socks. This is my virginal sock experience. They are knit two at a time on circular needles, a miracle I still don't understand. Every row is a labyrinth where I have to figure out which yarn is presently in use and which row I haven't yet completed. This, I suppose, is what people do when they miss home.