From the past, surely forgotten
Good to see you again!
Hello My Lovelies,
And we’re back. We’re rolling. Cue the lights, kick out the intern sleeping on the set, get me my coffee: It’s writing time.
Let’s keep this brief. Let’s define some parameters. I’ll make this as long as it takes the average Italian man to finish an espresso while standing at the cafe bar. If you want to run off and get your own espresso to sip whilst I write, that is entirely up to you. If I were you, I wouldn’t, because this is going to be fast!
It’s been a minute. Not a New York Minute. Less break necking, more like a Des Moines minute. (Des Moines is the only place in the universe where the passing of time has actually stopped completely. It only resumed when a cow farted and startled everyone back to moving). Nonetheless, it’s been a minute since last I showed up in your inbox.
Why now you ask?
In the beginning, I kept this as a log of my thoughts as I burned up United travel passes flying around the world. When I finally settled back in Missoula, there was no longer a clear reason to keep writing. I found myself venting, which wasn’t kind to you. There are angry blogs out there. Mine doesn’t need to be one of them. Accordingly, I turned off the lights, rolled down the shutters, walked away.
Yet now we’re back.
So what is the raisin de terrier, as the French say, this time?
Navel gazing.
Egoizing.
It’s certainly all about me.
Candidly, I’m trying to sort myself out. Next year I would like to go back to school. I think a Master’s degree would be a hoot and a holler to pursue, regardless of how terrible the current higher education system makes them. Yet, I have two choices. On one side of the coin: Public Administration. On the other: Fine Arts.
And the clock is ticking. Applications for the MFA program here in Missoula are due by Jan. 6th (unfortunate date that it is).
Before that date comes, I need to make a decision and choose a path. One, the other, the trail not mentioned.
Heart of hearts, I’d prefer the MFA. I’m not a great writer. There are a lot of skills I haven’t developed. But writing is what I like, and I’d like to do it well.
However, there are many paths to writing, and many of them keep far from ivory towers. Plus, Public Administration has its own claims upon my affection.
So why am I in your inbox again? This newsletter, now, shall become the record of my striving. A proving ground, a place to honestly interrogate the desire of becoming a writer contested against the reality of what is written.
Perhaps we shall all discover together the answers I seek. Or perhaps we’ll all grow more confused. Regardless, if you’re here, I’m glad. If you have thoughts, let me know. And since the Italian man has finished his espresso. Ciao.
