I've been away from this blog since April. When I look back on it, it seems unfathomable that so much time has gone by, and it also feels like a hundred years have gone by.
I always forget about the rhythms of my writing. I don't know how I forget it, but I do. Maybe it's the 20 years of having a summer vacation that has embedded itself into my psyche. The cycles of hunkering down, working hard, studying, and producing from September to May. Then, when the weather starts to warm up and the days start to feel lazier, I give myself permission to take it easy. In years past, it was a subconscious decision.
This year, it's been a little bit of both. This year is different from all the other years. Every day there is a new tweet to rail against, a new infuriating policy to protest, a new disaster to mourn. This presidency has affected my psyche in ways I'm hesitant to admit, but it's undeniable. I'm living with a cynicism I've never lived with before.
Aside from all the large scale stressors, we're finally (!!!) planning our wedding. Each wedding dress I look at is now distinct from one another (please see 2017: The Year of No Intention), and I have actual opinions on them. I was hoping I'd have an actual strong opinion on our wedding colors, but I still don't. I have days where I'm so excited for our wedding that I wish it were happening tomorrow, and I have days where I avoid looking at the countdown timer on my WeddingWire app because the number of days til our wedding is too few. I've begrudgingly and apprehensively bought two wedding planning books and a wedding planning binder (and also wondered who the hell I am these days).
This summer, my brother graduated from college after being an extremely hardworking Van Wilder for many years. M and I were there for his graduation. After, we took a family trip to Lake Tahoe, where M learned that when we say Tahoe's water is very cold, we are not kidding.
What else?
I went to Phoenix where it was 110+ degrees. I lay out on a 5th floor hotel rooftop deck at night, and felt homesick for the dry, hot, desert wind. We took M's dad on a surprise birthday trip to St. Louis to watch the Cardinals. The Cardinals lost both games we went to, but the weather was beautiful and the Bud Light Lime hit the spot (I know). I went to San Francisco for the Las Dos Brujas writing workshop, and wrote poems that I'm still working on and love dearly. I saw dolphins while hiking the Marin Headlands with poet friends. I got to show M the Golden Gate Bridge for his first time, and also introduced him to the (also very cold) Pacific Ocean.
This summer, writing has not been a priority. I've written here and there, and made some breakthroughs at Las Dos Brujas, but for the most part, it seems that my subconscious decided it was time for a break. It was time to take a step back and recognize that I have a very large plate, it is very full, and if I am not very careful and very intentional, I will burn all the way out.
I'm asking myself questions about balance and boundaries, about what caring for the self truly means. I'm asking myself questions about how to nourish myself and my writing when so much else in life and in this world seems to take and take and take.
So I'm back now. I don't have a lot of answers, but here we are. Figuring things out. As always.
What I did on my summer vacation
Yes, I have been away for awhile. Summer happened. I started this post back in June, when I felt like I finally had a moment to breathe and get excited about the beginning of summer.
Now that summer is almost ending, I'm finally getting around to actually writing this post. It figures.
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I love summer. Even though I'm an "adult" and don't get my summers off anymore, I still love the laziness, the heat, any vacation I can get. I love summer dresses and beaches and bathing suits and big sunglasses and floppy sunhats and cutoffs. I love most things that try to capture the essence of summer -- road trip and summer camp movies and books, those earworms that become the songs of the summer. I love baseball and ice cream and sunsets and I even love the sweat that comes with this godawful Indiana humidity.
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This summer was a full one for me, full of travel and writing and community and self-reflection. I spent time in Miami for the VONA/Voices writing workshop and spent almost 5 days in Rochester, New York, for the ever-feral Pink Door Women's Writing Retreat. A few days ago, I got back from Seattle, where I attended the Gender Odyssey conference with my parents, and caught up with so many old friends from high school, undergrad, and my writing life.
My summer has been packed with travel, heart work, and the best people in the world. It was exactly what I needed to recharge my writing life, and return to my roots. I'm going to write about all of it soon. Maybe even for this blog.
Right now, though, I'm exhausted. Everything has caught up with me. The physical exhaustion that comes with traveling from coast to coast and the emotional exhaustion of self-reflection and writing for the jugular, combined with the exhaustion of balancing all that with having a regular work life.
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There comes a point during summer when I grow tired of the heat. When I just want to be able to turn on my oven and bake or roast something without turning my entire apartment into Hades. When I just want to wear a sweater. When I mostly still love baseball but am kind of waiting for it to end so I can have my life back. When I grow tired of the constant motion and restlessness of travel, and want nothing but rest. When those songs of summer get stuck in my head and overstay their welcome.
I'm not quite there yet, but I'm almost.
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All that is to say, I'm back. I'm ready to begin again, as I always am. This post is more for me than for anyone else, but here we are.