Day 11--Refuge Reading

A few books I picked up...


Set in nice stacks because Nate couldn't stand my literary mess on the desk anymore. Visions of a writing room flood my mind...

More of the same...



Wednesday, I took the kiddos on an afternoon trip to the library. I enjoy seeing the thrill on Brooklynn's face when she enters the children's area. She wanders around pulling books off the shelves. While scanning covers she appears to be musing about whether or not it's a good one. If so, it goes in the bag. While at the check-out she asks me, "where is that book I ripped?" I'm embarrassed, confused, and at a loss for words. Silence from the library lady. I quickly break the silence. "What? What do you mean?" Then it dawns on me, that yes, in fact she has torn a library book, but it wasn't today. It was six months or so ago when we lived at the tiny Camas house and it was horrific. I took it back to the library intending to pay for it but the library lady said that it wasn't necessary since I had all the pieces. "Oh the book you ripped a while ago?" Brooklynn agrees. "Well it's a good thing we got only hardbound books today." Music to the library lady's ears. "Yes," the library lady says with a pleased smile. We take our book bag and off we go.

It feels nice when the library lady feels like you are a responsible a mother who makes sure your children don't demolish the city's books. Now, I just hope Brooklynn doesn't feel like coloring the books.

While at the library, I picked up a few books of my own. I've been looking for some writing inspiration. One I grabbed is Just Open a Vein, a compilation of short essays on the writing life. In it, Timothy Perrin writes an essay titled "Ray Bradbury's Children," which quotes Bradbury quite a bit. He says,

"Don't worry about things. Don't push. Just do your work and you'll survive. The important thing is to have a ball, to be joyful, to be loving, and to be explosive. Out of that comes everything and you grow. All you should worry about is if you are doing it every day and whether you're having fun with it. If you're not having fun, find the reason. You may be doing something you shouldn't be doing."

I've being feel so scrambled lately, feeling unsure about the track I'm on--going to school to get a Master's in Teaching, babies at home--still so little. Wondering if I actually want to teach or if it's just the writing I love? I don't imagine that solely loving the writing life can carry me through the teaching life. Would I make a good teacher, even? While thinking about this I envision a hermit crab tucking himself back into her shell. I cringe at the thought that one day I'd be trying to sell myself (which in itself is unappealing) to get a job, and then they'll ask something about "why should we hire you?" And I'll sit there and wonder the same thing? Not because I don't have confidence or because I'm stumped as how to best do so using teacher's lingo, but because I'm having a hard time envisioning myself there. I also know myself too well, and know that my heart hangs on my sleeve. If I'm not feeling it, they wont either.

It's a frustrating place to be. I've imagined myself a teacher for the last 7-8 years or so. Now, I jump the soon-to-be-a-teacher hoops half-mindedly, while my heart is at home.