The other day, I went out to my car in an attempt to find cords for my Zune that have been missing since Christmas. Since I got busted illegally downloading music, I figured I should start to take advantage of the actual paid subscription I have and reclaim all of the music I’ve aquired since December. Anyway, I could not find the cords and I only hope they’ll jump out at me when I begin packing up my room. Instead of anything that I needed to find, I liberated 11 pairs of shoes from the trunk of my car. Seriously: green Pumas; steel-toed work boots; Birk clogs; orange Reefs; blue Crocs; grey Asics; snow boots; brown ballet flats; blue Reefs; purple Pumas; and a pair of black heels. I guess I didn’t realize that I had that many pairs of shoes, but I’m happy to have them all back.
Unfortunately, as I’m packing up and moving out, forced into compartmentalizing my life yet again, I have to decide which of these shoes will be travelling 1000 miles with me. Obviously the steel-toed workboots will make the journey, but I have to do some serious reflection on what kinds of footwear are best for touring the Quarter, walking the levees, and drinking in bars. I’ll cross that bridge when i come to it, and I’ll probably cross it wearing waders up to my neck… which is actually more like fording the river, Oregon-Trail-style than anything.
Last weeks. I have about 45 more pages of writing to complete, including revising (yay!). I have to finish mudding and sanding over at the lodge. I have to pack up all of my stuff (ick), and move it to the storage unit or stash it in my car. I have to pray that gas prices go down so I can make it to New Orleans without blowing the rest of my life savings. I have to reconcile relationships. I have to steal my dishes back from the kitchen. I have to say goodbye to people I’ve known and loved over the years. I have to prepare for the transition to real work, day in and day out with two of my favorite people in the world. I have to simultaneously prepare to write a substantial number of good poems this summer. I have to go change my laundry and get some breakfast; it’s nearly noon.
This hurriedness at the end of the semester seems to get worse and worse each season. I’m looking forward to the leisurely pace come August. I know that, despite driving 1200 miles solo in a day, counseling middle-schoolers at camp for a week, heading back downstate for my cousin’s wedding, and then returning to Albion for intense (haha) FYE training, I’ll be so in love with US that I’ll be anything but bitterly exhausted. How convoluted of me! I’ve been making less and less sense as these final days pass. I hope I can reclaim some intelligence before I submit all of my final work.
Laundry. Right. Paix, betches.
Well, welcome to New Orleans, if it’s not premature. And keep in mind’ Everette Maddox’s warning about tryign to get poetry written down here (which you can find, if now where else, at http://13possums.wordpress.com)(scroll all the way down).
Comment by Wet Bank Guy — April 30, 2008 @ 2:10 pm |