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A Writer's Notebook, Two-Thousand-Two-Hundred-And-Eighty-Five

Melissa and I are leaving for Ohio tomorrow.  I know she is still a bit anxious about the trip, and I can't say that I am not feeling that a bit as well.  I certainly feel that I should have prepared a bit more in some ways, but that's kind of how I feel whenever I have to travel, so I don't know if it means much of anything.  At the moment, I am largely worried about the fact that we still need to do a lot of packing, if I am honest.

Poem: I do not know if it is a real change

I do not know if it is a real change To be clear: it has been different and I do not deny that, but I cannot say if it will last or if it is just this moment, right now, and nothing more. There are fluctuations that do not signal anything, and I cannot be certain this is anything more. Give me time, I suppose, let it last long enough and I think I will trust it.

A Writer's Notebook, Two-Thousand-Two-Hundred-And-Eighty-Four

Melissa and I are heading to Ohio for Thanksgiving.  We've not been up there in a while and have been planning to go for some time.  Originally we had planned to go during the Summer, but it didn't work out.  I tend to enjoy Columbus, generally, though I am a bit nervous about staying in the house.  For one thing, it has been unoccupied for a while, and though we have a few people checking on things for us, I am not certain just what it will be like when we get there.  Even if everything is fine, overall, it is still not the most comfortable place, to be honest.  Despite that, I am glad we are going, especially as we likely will get together with a number of Melissa's friends and family who we don't see all that often.

Poem: Other people know

Other people know They are talking about it, too, and talk about it as I do, with the same questions, the same wondering  that I am scolded for. It is all strange. You should know it is not only that I think so: it is strange. I do not mean to offend you.

A Writer's Notebook, Two-Thousand-Two-Hundred-And-Eighty-Three

I have been focusing on trying to get my work done a bit earlier in the evening lately.  In part this is just a response to the reality that I tend to wake up early, almost in spite of whatever time I went to sleep.  It is also, though, an end within itself.  I am very much aware that my writing is largely a discipline for me, that it took pushing myself to do the work each day before I was really able to get anywhere with actually writing the things I always thought about writing.  These days, I am still often trying to push myself to do work in one way or another.  I have been focused on my poetry lately, and that is a positive thing, I believe, but it is also true that I have been hesitant to get back to work on other types of writing, and I want to get through whatever obstacle that is.  For me, I think that working on my writing habits in small and practical ways, like focusing on my tendency to procrastinate or distract myself before doing work, is, I think, a step towards pushin

Poem: Already, there is a loss

Already, there is a loss and not the one that was expected, not that.  It is not that it won't go, too, but there is something else that has vanished first and it was never a thing anyone ever noticed or named, but now it is vanishing and that will make it different. So many have not even noticed yet.

A Writer's Notebook, Two-Thousand-Two-Hundred-And-Eighty-Two

I went for a massage today.  It is not something I really do all that often, but my back has been hurting recently and my doctor recommended that it might help me, and I do feel quite good after, if I am honest.  It was also a chance to destress a bit, which I definitely have been in need of.  I don't know how much it will help in terms of that, in the long run, at least, but I am glad to feel a bit relaxed, at least in this moment.