Perspective · Uncategorized


Lent is over. I am still working on giving up worry.

Easter weekend was beautiful and good.

I’ve been thinking about work. Lately, I’ve been substitute teaching, and doing just a little writing. I had hoped it would be more writing, but I haven’t gotten there yet. Last week, I began working at a local preschool part time.

It’s been almost a year since I lost the job I held for 7.5 years doing community mental health care for a non-profit organization.

I’m thinking it’s time to start writing about the work I did.

I’m thinking it’s time I start writing more in general.

Today I was subbing in a 5th grade ELA (English Language Arts) class and the students were working on writing stories. As they looked over their rough drafts and flipped through dictionaries, I thought about how I used to write.

I thought about one story in particular. I’m not exactly sure what the assignment was, but I remember I wrote about the 1886 earthquake in Charleston, SC. I remember going to my grandmother’s house to painstakingly type it out on the computer in the room she and my grandfather had above their garage. I remember researching the event. I remember detailing the colors of the houses on Rainbow Row. I remember adding a trellis with flowered vines. I remember loving my story. I remember how impressed my grandmother was with my writing. I remember how much I loved it. I loved dreaming it up, writing it, typing it, making sure it was just right, reading it, letting others read it.

When I reflect on that assignment, I remember how pure the process was for me. Given the assignment, I knew what I wanted to write, so I wrote it and I wrote it in the best way I knew how and I was proud of it and that was good enough. Even if no one else liked it, I would have loved it.

Maybe there is too much noise in my writing attempts now. Maybe there is too much noise in my life.

I love the plethora of opportunities I have now for gathering information. Curious and inquisitive by nature, I like information. I like gathering data and using it to make my next move. So that’s where the trouble comes. With so much data available, constantly, I think I’ve become paralyzed, waiting to make my next move when I have gathered all the data. But there is no way to gather all the available data. The data is endless. Even the work to filter it is endless. It’s a never ending stream of information. Instead of quenching my thirst for deep knowledge of people and the world around me, I am instead being flooded with billions of little drops of information, all at once.

feb 2012 9

There is no drinking it in. There is no rest from it. With so much of it, it’s hard to tell if any of it even matters at all.

I guess I have to make peace with the knowledge that information is everywhere and I’ll never have it all. Maybe there are just sweet spots in the midst of the deluge. Maybe I have to make peace with a few awkward posts here and there, as I move from one sweet spot to the next.


One thought on “Drenched

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