The View Up Here

The semester, at long last, is finally concluded, and with it, much of my stress. Even the incessant rain and gray skies aren't going to get my kite string in a knot. No, instead, I relish in the freedom of mind, body and spirit that comes with that glorious period between end of Spring semester and beginning of Summer Session. Next week, I will be visiting The Land Where I Was Birthed and celebrating my great-nephew Aidan's first birthday with my family. Over the summer, I have plans, many plans, which include, but are not limited to: Teaching for Cornell's summer college Working on the Space: 1999 novel (thanks to Bill, my editor at Powys Media, for being so patient) Polishing two scripts with my writing group Getting a rough cut done of my doc on life as an EFL teacher in Korea Working on the Rod Serling Conference for Ithaca College Volunteering with The Ithaca League of Women Rollers as their Penalty Box Manager Lookin' for a jrrb I have a clip coming out later...

Today, in the midst of Easter dinner (a homemade tomato-turkey meat sauce over gluten-free spaghetti), Spaz the Kitty ran through the patio door proudly showing off her latest catch: a chipmunk - who was still alive, and who proceeded to wriggle its way free and dart into the kitchen, never to be seen again. Well, at least for the last six hours or so. No amount of verbal coaxing has done a thing. For one thing, I don't speak Chipmunk. But, with any luck, the apartment maintenance guy can move the stove and fridge and get the little bugger to come out. Barring that, an exterminator might have to be retained to lure it out, capture it, and let it go (I'm going for my idealistic, non-violent version of an exterminator. Call me a dreamer.). Why I tell this story? Sometimes things come dashing into our lives and take up temporary (short or long-term) residence in our homes, hearts, minds. Sometimes, you can knock it out with a well-placed flashlight beam and the tip of a wooden ...

"It's spring, people. Time to wake up. Jump into your writing garden and do what needs to be done." -- Hope Clark, Funds for Writers Newsletter Photo @ Constance Saltonstall Foundation for the Arts

Stress. A friend of mine and I had a conversation last night about "good" stress vs. "bad" stress vs. "you" stress. We established that this "you" stress is a bunch of bullshit. Stress is either "good" (a job interview, learning how to surf, going to the gym at the end of a long day, starting a new story, etc.) or "bad" (you burn the dinner, your dog is run over, you find someone else's panties in your bed, etc.). I recognize that some events are not bad in and of themselves; rather, how we perceive them and how they impact our subconscious mind are actually what causes the bad stress. Nevertheless, the result is the same. Bad stress makes you sick. It weakens your immune system, it depletes your adrenal system, it causes muscle pain, headaches, lack of sleep, etc. It makes you a Grumpus Maximus. It is bad. That's why it's called bad stress . At work, I've noticed more bad stress amidst our staff due to a c...

Yes, Spring really is on its way. Yesterday, in the parking lot of Wegman's, I could hear the joy of little green roots under the earth, their tiny voices welling up even through the blacktop. Despite the chill and damp of melting snow, I could feel a difference in the air. Something...promising, coming, anticipating. I suppose my few moments of communing with the thaw-in-progress could also have been powered by the fact that I finished the first draft of On The Other Side yesterday . 87 pages of screenplay. Done. Now for revisions, of course, but I already have notes from my writing group, so I know what I need to do from this point. I just need the space to do it. I'm also bolstered by the fact that I just nabbed a free lance writing assignment at Cornell University, which is a wonderful addition to my portfolio as well as my bank account. Ah, the life of a free lance writer, eh? I really want to nail this assignment so that others will follow in the near future. All in all...

Please read my post about my adventures at Planet Fitness! File Under P for Poise and Power

My dear readers, unless you are on the Left Coast, you have been touched in some way by the winds of ice and raging snow delivered unto us by Saruman. I, for once, am not complaining, because I get a snow day, which means I am home writing and playing with the cat. Not a bad way to spend a deep-freeze Wednesday in February. Speaking of which, apparently the rodent is predicting an early spring. What do y'all think about that? Because we're out of January, I am starting to feel the pulse of life again. Feb. 1 was Imbolc , the feast of Brigid, that ancient pagan date that confers to the deepest underground roots and springs the movement of spring. Yes, the snow is up to our hips, but under the layers of ice and frost and frozen top soil, life is happening!