I took Monday and Tuesday off so I could drive to Tulsa to attend Travis Baldree’s book signing for Brigands & Breadknives. He talked about writing, answered questions, and read from Chapter 15. He narrates the audiobooks of this series, and I highly recommend listening to them, because he is a delight.
I got to read poems and listen to some great music at Joan of Bark at Rubber Gloves on Wednesday (and also going to be performing on December 13 at the Fest, which you should come see if you’re local or want a reason to travel to Denton)!
This is the collab I didn’t know I needed. “No Good Deed” with Cynthia Erivo and Misty Copeland.
I am very excited about this evening and tomorrow, when I will be catching up on all the taking care of my home that I have been neglecting whilst out gallivanting around. I might even go ahead and put up the tree. ‘Tis (almost) the season!
Happy Halloween! This year’s costumes are Winnie the Pooh (featured at book club since I was not feeling well for the actual Halloween party I typically go to), and a version of the Mad Hatter for work today. I hope you are having a fun day!
Some things I enjoyed reading this week (and a bit of last week):
Abbott: Rainbows gotta go… Oak Lawn Methodist Church: …on our steps. “It’s important because silence is not neutral — silence in the face of harm always sides with the oppressor. At Oak Lawn UMC, we believe love belongs in public. Painting our steps in the colors of the rainbow is a visible witness to the gospel we preach: that every person is created in the image of God and worthy of safety, dignity, and belonging,” Love this.
“My bucket list of little things aims to live every moment as if it’s my first. To find the glory in what a seasoned eye might falsely consider mundane.” Andrea Gibson, Things That Don’t Suck (Substack)
It has been a long week. Nothing particularly bad has happened. I’ve just felt puny and tired. The weather, however, is gorgeous. It was 52 when I left home. I am wearing a light sweater!
Today, I need a list of things to look forward to this season that aren’t super ambitious but still give me ways to ground myself and remind myself that I’m alive and meant to be living and not just muddling through.
Buy a delicious cup of coffee and drink it while browsing a bookstore. Take all the time I want.
Take shorter, more frequent walks. Not everything has to be hard all at once. A little bit multiple times a day is better than pushing myself and getting too exhausted to do anything else for hours.
Keep my hands warm and nimble with piano and knitting.
Make soup without rushing. Pan roast the veggies slowly. Add one ingredient at a time. Fill my home with cozy smells.
Take drives. Drive down winding country roads just outside of town and find the few trees in Texas that know what time of year it is. Drive down my favorite streets and let the memories of every time I’ve been there before flow over me.
“I was like a woman at a drawer, putting away her party dresses between tissue paper, and there he stood in the doorway– not Stewart Applebaum, but this feeling– gentlemanly, feral, breathtaking, peaceful, something very close to life itself, asking me for one more dance down in the meadow.” Rebecca Lee, Bobcat and Other Stories
Getting older is strange. It’s equal parts liberating and stifling. It’s a round of “I do what I want” followed immediately by “I’m old enough to know better.” People look at you like you’re the adult in the room, and you are, even though you may reject their definition of what that means and the expectations that go along with it.
Every new change, whether it’s due to aging or sickness or just boredom, comes with packing away or throwing out the things that don’t fit anymore. Sometimes that feels good; sometimes it doesn’t.
Last Sunday, we celebrated a couple of birthdays by going to the goth club we used to frequent. It was my first time going to their new location, and I was nervous about whether I would like it.
I had fun. I missed the chandelier and the multiple bars spaced throughout the club and the second dance room. I had moments of sadness remembering people we used to see there who are no longer with us.
But the music was a great mix of new and old. There was something for everyone, which is one of the big things that drew me to the club back in the day. All the weird things we each bring to the table were welcome. Everyone can play. Just the way the world should be.
It was a good reminder that I’m not ready to pack away all the party dresses. I probably never will be.
As long as I have breath, I will dance through a thousand open doorways and out into the world.
This was a momentous week. This was the first week of the whole year that I had zero doctor’s appointments. Also no labs, no tests, no treatments, no “here is what this next thing is going to cost you” meetings. Nothing. It’s been nice. I could get used to this. I mean, I won’t, because soon I start radiation and will have a treatment every day. But it’s been good to have a break.
Inspiration has come from a lot of places this week. Enjoy!
I love this commencement speech that Reshma Saujani gave at Smith last year. Down with imposter syndrome!
This is terrifying and inspiring and bring it on (the menopause, to be clear. Some of the rest of it can just skip me right over, thanks.).
I love this piece by Shawn Smucker. We are dancing animals! So we go to independent bookstores like Nooks to commune with other dancing animals.
One of my favorite things that show up in my inbox is Susannah Conway’s newsletter. I started following for pics of her cat and the occasional backyard fox, but she also shares a lot of wisdom and a glimpse into the kind of life I’d like to lead someday. She has several online courses, one of which starts on Monday. Journal Your Life sounds perfect for establishing a journal practice if you don’t know where to start or if you just need a few pointers to make it joyful enough to stick even on don’t-wanna days.
Finally, this week I read You Can Talk to God LikeThat by Abby Norman, and it was exactly what I needed to hear right now. I met Abby online many years ago, and she’s been one of my favorite people for spiritual encouragement and wisdom ever since. I’m probably going to talk more about this book in its own post once I process my feelings a little more, but if you were raised to always praise and always be thankful and maybe stuff your anger/hurt/disappointment down under a blanket of false positivity, Abby is here to tell you that’s bullshit, and I heartily second that emotion.
Happy New Year, everyone! Back to work this week, getting to do a lot of interviews for next year’s staff. We’re losing almost half of our student staff in the office, and there are a lot of great candidates. Definitely go home and just sit in the silence after all this social interaction, though. Ready for a calm, quiet weekend.
Here are some things I enjoyed this week:
I’m intrigued by the concept of house hushing. On the one hand, it makes sense that a neat environment can be more peaceful – more mentally quiet. On the other hand, this feels like another person telling me why I need to clean my house, and I’m not sure I’m open to that sort of advice today. Does hushing still work if I’m overwhelmed and exhausted about it? Maybe I’ll revisit this concept when I’m in a more cleaning-as-catharsis mood.
Here’s something more manageable – turning my office into a cozy workspace. My current favorite things about my office at UNT – a full candy jar, inspirational notes on the bulletin board, coloring books and supplies available for students to use, and twinkle lights (battery-operated, per Housing rules).
I love this piece about dancing – at parties, in clubs, in your living room – how it feels to move in time with music and other people and be a part of something. One of the reasons I don’t mind crowds quite as much when I’m dancing is that it lets me be a slightly different person than I usually am when I’m standing or sitting still. It’s an experience of being both together and alone.
Leave it to Joy the Baker to speak my mind. Gentle January is such a good idea. I mean, I clearly am not going to leave goal-setting and looking toward the new year until the end of the month. But I am starting off soft in other ways. To me, this looks like even more nights at home than usual and longer writing/piano/knitting/crafting sessions. And I am definitely on board with eating down the fridge and pantry to use up all the things before restocking. Work and medical stuff are out of control this month, so embracing as gentle a January as possible sounds like such a relief.
I’m not adding yet another reading challenge to my plate this year. I’m really not. But I do find this one intriguing. If you get book FOMO, this might be a good one for you. A little backtrack on things that might have fallen under your radar in the last decade or so. Enjoy!
A fitting start to my resolution recap is a quote from Luvvie Ajayi Jones’s newsletter.
“The goals we set aren’t sacred oaths.”
My 2022 resolutions were perfectly reasonable at the time that I set them. Things happen, though, and sometimes those things cause a big enough disruption (good or bad – still a disruption) that previous intentions either no longer represent what we want or simply aren’t feasible. So we adjust, and we extend compassion to ourselves (the very hardest of all compassions for me to muster).
For better or worse, here’s the year in review.
Read 150 books – I read a lot this year, but not exactly what I planned to read. I finished the majority of the books chosen for in-person book clubs, but I didn’t read a lot of the online club selections. I made a pretty big dent in Book Riot’s Read Harder Challenge, the POPSUGAR Reading Challenge, Girlxoxo’s Monthly Key Word Reading Challenge, and the 52 Book Club’s Reading Challenge, but I didn’t finish any of them. However, I discovered some new series and authors that I love, and still met my goal of 150 books. According to Goodreads, in those 150 books, I read 44,892 pages, which put my average book length at 299 pages. Most of all, I had fun, so I am calling it a success!
Write 5 short stories – I think I wrote zero short stories this year. I may have finished one for a What Now? submission, but I don’t recall specifics, so probably not. On the plus side, I have definitely written more words of fiction than in other recent years, so at least I’m getting back into the habit.
Finish expanded rough drafts of Feast and Epic Meal Planning – Welp. Hmm. Nope. This did not happen. I did make an impressive (read: intense) to-do list for each project to keep me on track. I’m pretty sure doing that just overwhelmed me, though, especially as life (read: work) itself got more overwhelming.
Earn $7500 with copywriting job – This also did not happen (see above re: overwhelmed at work). I have a couple of new teams that pay more per word, though, so it’s starting to become easier to work back up to the paycheck I need. This leaves me hopeful.
Build a consistent practice of an average of 30 minutes/day of movement – I’m so proud of myself. I’ve been really consistent with this. It’s mostly just been walking with a few dance breaks scattered in, but my doctor assures me that it counts (take that, overachiever brain). The main difference I’ve noticed that it has made is having fewer aches/stiff muscles, especially when I get up in the morning.
So, two out of five. Not what I’d hoped for, but still progress. I learned some things, and I’m (working on) being satisfied with that.
Did you make resolutions this year? What did you learn from them?
My favorite part of this picture is the reflection of the sheet music in the black keys.
Other than the benefits and the frequent free food, one reason I stay at my full-time job is that I will be officially eligible to retire on August 1, 2030. That’s just eight years away (or seven years, nine months, and 27 days, but who’s counting). Assuming I am in a good financial position to do so at that point, this will allow me to dedicate significantly more time to what I actually want to be when/as I grow up.
An artist.
More specifically, a writer/musician/dancer, but I’m open to other forms of art. The relatively small amount of time I spend working on my works in progress, writing this blog, collaborating with Sarah and other friends, singing in the choir, and other artsy pursuits is what makes me come alive. It is my joy. Retiring this early will also afford me some flexibility in my schedule for attending performances (as well as performing in them) because there will be no office to report to the next morning. I can finally fully embrace the night owl I was born to be.
One of the most challenging realizations I’ve had this year while pondering what it means to live lushly is that doing a job that is consistent but doesn’t really allow me to use my strengths or do what I enjoy puts inherent limits on how much of such a life I can really have right now. Is it worth it? Is there something else I could be doing that would be more rewarding and still give me the stability I currently need? I don’t have answers to these questions yet, but the questions have prompted me to look for ways to incorporate my creative skills into the work I do and to be pickier about the things I volunteer for that don’t really fit my preferences.
At the very least, engaging in creative activities gives me something to look forward to, even if it’s not how I spend most of my time. I’m excited to go to choir practice tonight. And after taking a few years off, I signed up for NaNoWriMo next month. I’m going to try writing my novel in second person. That’s about as far into planning as I’ve gotten, which is actually good for this particular time frame because I write a lot faster as a pantser than a planner.
For years I had seen signs around town for Spiderweb Salon shows. I may have even stumbled into a few of them. They were odd and subversive and breathtaking and challenging and magical and haunting and angry and hopeful.
In a word, perfect. Exactly what art is meant to be.
True to my observer persona, I watched and admired from afar, happy to get a once-in-a-while glimpse of this lovely art collective. Sometimes I considered introducing myself, but I held back. After all, I already had two thriving online writers groups and a group of writer friends I met sporadically with in person. I kept in touch with writing/artist friends from fandom and other spaces through Facebook groups and blogging. And while I was an active member of my church choir, I hadn’t really performed or played piano or danced in so long that I was sure I would never find time to practice enough again to pursue it for real.
Then in January 2019, Sarah invited me to the first meeting of Follow the Reader, Spiderweb’s new book club. We had a main book selection and a supplemental read. Sphinx, written by Anne Garréta, was the centerpiece, and it was unlike anything I’d ever read before. I don’t want to give away the linguistic restraint the author used, because I really want you to read it and discover it for yourself. Garréta is a member of Oulipo (Google it if you’re a fan of rabbit holes. And welcome to freakin’ Wonderland), which is the experimental literary collective that Daniel Levin Becker writes about in Many Subtle Channels, our supplemental reading that month.
These book selections would have been enough to keep me coming back. But that’s not all I found that evening.
The people in this group talk about books, reading, and literary life the way I talk about books, reading, and literary life. We discussed the books we read, but we didn’t just muse over the content within, as if something written by a human being could ever be discussed in a vacuum, separated from its place in humanity. The conversation flowed from art to history to oppression to current events to community support and back to art.
Spiderweb had my full attention and loyalty from that first meeting.
I went home and immediately committed to being a monthly supporter of their Patreon (shameless plug – support artists!). It took me a couple of months to start making an appearance at shows, but soon I was showing up at every performance and event scheduled.
I thought I was coming to this book club to reconnect with a friend from high school in a way that guaranteed we’d at least see each other once a month. And I got that (we’re currently working on an album together!). I also found a loving and beloved community that invites me to their stage and supports me in whatever I’m working on. We’re collaborators but we’re friends first, and that fosters an inspiring space for creation of all kinds. They’re the reason I’m dancing again and considering perhaps one day even doing it on stage again (maybe).
April is one of my favorite reading months because it’s National Poetry Month. It’s also National Jazz Appreciation Month, and while the Denton Arts & Jazz Festival is postponed until the fall this year, I am going to be reading through some old standards via keyboard. So we’re taking liberties with what goes on the “reading” list this month.
Joy Selections:
Art in its various forms is a big part of my life, and I’m exploring the joy in that this month.
This list will seem long. No, I haven’t joined four more book clubs. It’s just because Follow the Reader is doing choose-your-own-adventure poetry this month, and my perpetual adventure is that, when left to my own devices, I can’t pick just one collection.
M. Suzanne Terry 