Thinking about writing.

Buzzards and all.

Photography courtesy Robert Stubblefield/TTU Center at Junction

I’m back from a work trip to Junction, Texas (for those of you who aren’t familiar, Texas Tech has a site/campus/center in the Hill Country. It’s very cool.)

I was dreading the trip a little for several reasons, mainly because four solid days with the people I work with sounded a little nerve-wracking. I mean, I love our group but 1.) I try to maintain a little bit different persona at work (editor/team leader) than I do outside of work (artsy nutjob) so doing that for days was going to be tiring 2.) I need a lot of alone time 3.) staying vegan is a challenge in the best of situations.

It turned out fine. Better than fine. The artsy nutjob introvert was able to go off on her own fairly often. Took a few hours by myself down by the river and it awakened in me the desire to spend more time outside. Also: we went kayaking and it was like I was being reborn. Most of y’all know about the canoeing thing that runs in my family, haha. Anyway, it’s been years since I’ve been able to enjoy myself outside because of my health. But I got hot and tired and sore and a little sunburned and, instead of having to take literally days to recover from something like that, I was fine the next day. In fact, I felt BETTER after I got hot and tired than I did before. It’s like a miracle. 1f642.png

I also got to know some of our group a lot better. We had some drama but pulled together in an unbelievable way and I was very impressed by the resilience of these people. I also got to know the staff at Junction and now I want to go work down there, haha. In another life, I think I would have been a good zoologist.

I missed my kitties–but there was a buzzard. 1f642.png

I didn’t get any writing done, at least in the way that words went down in a Scrivener document. But I had a few ideas that I jotted down. And then there was the percolating. You know about the percolating. Percolating is important. Plus the longing to get back to the page which is what tells me that being a writer is my vocation. That longing.

So here I am. Back at the page with nothing to do today but write, write, write. I might even paint. Anybody want a painting of a buzzard?

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