To the Self

For a while, a few weeks only, a small drop compared to the rest of the life I've lived, I have not updated this blog. With such grand notions of attempting to write frequently (dare I say daily?) at the outset of this blog, I was disappointed with myself for not doing so. Which made me even less inclined to continue with the whole thing. Imagine the melodramatic cry, "What is the point!?" That's the thing with melodrama though. Often times it's quite silly.

Much too much has happened for me to trace back through the weeks, and more than anything I am surprised by the passage of time. As November's end nears, I contemplate what it is I'm grateful for, as so many others have. There are times when those things are hard to remember, when they fade out of focus. But I try always to be mindful of joy and to be kinder to myself.

So I am thankful for the biggest, clearest sky I've ever seen; for the great grey owl, the red and white fox, the grouse and ptarmigan; for the silence so still you can hear the snow falling. I am grateful for peacefulness and the chatter produced by spending time with people who are interested in one another, and for feeling loved and cared for. I am grateful for borrowing books, for poetry, for the strange and varied passage of time, which insists on change. And to time I owe the changes in my life, which have brought me to this point, past harsh adversity and trembling sorrow and the buoyant moments of joy. No less than every moment could have brought me here, even if I still sometimes struggle. I am grateful even for the struggle.

November First

This is a good day so far (three hours into it). I'm writing a new poem, revising an old one, reading two poetry books and a stack of poems for review for the lit magazine at UAF. And I think being immersed in poetry can make good days, even if you know you're avoiding work for class. Even if you're avoiding sleep, as usual.

I'd like to blame the weather here for my poor sleep. I'd like to say, "Oh well the sun patterns have..." blah blah blah. Truthfully, I'm just ignoring sleeping patterns. The sun doesn't rise early anymore, why should I? We lose seven minutes of daylight a day. To put it in perspective, by november 18 we will have approximately five hours and fifty minutes of sunlight. By december 1 we will have four and a half hours of sunlight. Most of this will be horizon sun, rising and setting.

Homicide rates are highest in hot, bright countries; suicide rates are highest in cold, dark countries. Either way someone is killing something. Isn't that strange? The habits of people are generally confusing.

I suppose I'm updating this for the sake of updating it, and not for any real reflection or purposeful writing. just needed to give that poem I'm working on a little air. I did write a different new poem while I was up here, and I quite liked it. I might even venture to say that it's good. Not sure yet how I feel about the new one. Longer lines than I usually go for, and of a very personal and close nature. I guess I'd say we'll see if I was going to post it here, but I'm not going to. So...