"Half the reason people "write" is so they can have a reason to tell everyone not to bother them."
me - 7-26-95
Tuesday, March 31, 2015
Thursday, March 5, 2015
My Essay - Homework
My little blog has been a catalyst for me to write. Writers need to practice just like musicians, athletes and yogis. Writing is a practice I have neglected due to circumstances of which I will not bore you. There has been a severe lack of time. Time is the element which is negotiable, fungible, malleable and yet sometimes seemingly nonexistent.
I have several students whom I tutor in the area of essay writing and general quality sentence construction for various purposes. I thought, tonight, that if I am to teach I must certainly practice. So this here is my essay homework for tonight, and if you, my dear friends, are reading, you must be my tutor and give me honest and gentle feedback. I do really need to know.... because, dear reader, remodeling houses and running about doing freelance work for home organizing and babysitting (which I LOVE with all my heart) is not, I admit, practicing writing.
I used to live where the view of the mountains was enough to make me wax philosophic and poetic. I wrote on Chehalem Mountain, inspired by the broad vista of distant green hills and snow caped peaks. Tonight there would be Mt. Adams, pink with alpenglow. What I see out the windows of my city nest is only a tiny section of sky with evening light fading lovely, but abbreviated. Yet, I appreciate living in 'town'. I find it fits what I need to be searching for at this point in my life (one year shy of 60).
I spent the day with an almost 14 month old little girl. She smiles easily, runs into my arms to cuddle, eats everything offered with great gusto and wants to touch every pretty spring tree in bloom squeezing the blossoms in her incredibly small yet strong hands. My grand daughter Kaitlyn is the miracle, milagro, of my life. I watched her climb around the play ground today, and thought of the short year it has been since I witnessed her birth. Babies are a testament to life, reminding us once again how amazing it is that we get to be here. They, new to the experience, love everything and everyone good and beautiful, want to taste most anything, and watch the world sometimes so quietly it is holy.
Am I digressing from my essay topic? Maybe not. This writing is my practice, and my practice is to describe the parts of life that inspire or move me deeply.
The potatoes are cooking, and I must check them. I guess this is where I end. In conclusion....life goes on, and even writers eat dinner.
I have several students whom I tutor in the area of essay writing and general quality sentence construction for various purposes. I thought, tonight, that if I am to teach I must certainly practice. So this here is my essay homework for tonight, and if you, my dear friends, are reading, you must be my tutor and give me honest and gentle feedback. I do really need to know.... because, dear reader, remodeling houses and running about doing freelance work for home organizing and babysitting (which I LOVE with all my heart) is not, I admit, practicing writing.
I used to live where the view of the mountains was enough to make me wax philosophic and poetic. I wrote on Chehalem Mountain, inspired by the broad vista of distant green hills and snow caped peaks. Tonight there would be Mt. Adams, pink with alpenglow. What I see out the windows of my city nest is only a tiny section of sky with evening light fading lovely, but abbreviated. Yet, I appreciate living in 'town'. I find it fits what I need to be searching for at this point in my life (one year shy of 60).
I spent the day with an almost 14 month old little girl. She smiles easily, runs into my arms to cuddle, eats everything offered with great gusto and wants to touch every pretty spring tree in bloom squeezing the blossoms in her incredibly small yet strong hands. My grand daughter Kaitlyn is the miracle, milagro, of my life. I watched her climb around the play ground today, and thought of the short year it has been since I witnessed her birth. Babies are a testament to life, reminding us once again how amazing it is that we get to be here. They, new to the experience, love everything and everyone good and beautiful, want to taste most anything, and watch the world sometimes so quietly it is holy.
Am I digressing from my essay topic? Maybe not. This writing is my practice, and my practice is to describe the parts of life that inspire or move me deeply.
The potatoes are cooking, and I must check them. I guess this is where I end. In conclusion....life goes on, and even writers eat dinner.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)