On most days the mornings are the best part. To wake up in the arms of love and from there to enjoy moments of peace and togetherness and from there transition into solitude as the writing begins.
It begins with a blog. Ten Minutes to share anything of knowledge and worth or perhaps just to muse or to rant or to reflect. Once the ten passes the day falls into place. There is teaching. There is usually teaching. It occupies a space that is both anticipated and enjoyed. What happens in the classroom is invigorating on most days. From time to time it is not, and on such days the weight of the world feels that much heavier; the sameness of the homespace feels that much more tepid.
The work comes next. The words are the work. The words are central to everything. They harken back to a one bedroom apartment in Harlem and a little boy sitting alone on the rug staring towards a bedroom that feels much darker than it should; that horrifies much much more than it should. Even now the dreams of being dragged into that space, the air sucked from every pore, haunt. There were good times to be sure, but on the lengthening road of time and past it has become hard to discern what was real and imagined. The words help with that after a fashion. The words cement moments both real and imagined. The words reflect feelings and beliefs and goals and intentions. All of these things flood into the lives of the characters that populate the pages of fantasy, science fiction, real world drama, and on the rarest of occasions, comedy. Nobody laughs though. The words aren’t even as funny as they are imagined to be. The jokes are always of the ‘dad’ variety, which is to say corny and poorly timed.
Then comes the other work, interspersed with distraction. It is rare to grade without a distraction close at hand. That has more to do with not wanting to focus than the presumed need to have background noise in order to focus. It might not be that way for everyone… but it probably is.
After there are games with loved ones. Food follows or coexists in that space. Then the end of the day nears and the bedroom beckons. Tomorrow it begins again.