Pretty Solid Saturday

A nice morning run in the sun and crisp January air, blue sky all around.  Followed by a brief workout.  Stopped by and said hi to my dad for a few.  Got my Jeep washed (finally).  It's been a long time coming, and now it looks great.  Coffee, lunch and a walk by the river with a really prodigious girl.  And that was all by 2:30. How great a day is that?  I have no complaints :)

Traditions of the Personal Persuasion

I once said to a young pupil of mine, “Trevor, if you retain one thing that I’ve told you, let it be the importance of having personal traditions.”  I said this during a text message conversation as I was driving back into Thurston on the McKenzie Highway.  It was a crisp, sunny fall day, and I had just made my annual pilgrimage to Herrick Farms for a jug of their apple cider.  It is honestly the best cider I’ve ever had.  I began this making this trip almost 6 years ago, shortly after I got my driver’s license.

The journey begins at the intersection of Marcola and Camp Creek Roads, where I cruise the snake-like road along the river taking in the changing trees, the sound of the rushing water, and the smell of the autumn leaves.  I end up next to Ray’s supermarket at Walterville and tourne a droite.  I then travel the half-mile or so to Millican Road and turn right again and follow the quaint little lane past the firehouse to the gravel parking lot at Herrick’s.  I have finally reached my destination.  But is it really my destination?   The trip as a whole is my purpose for the hour or so spent in transit.  Herrick’s is just a stop along the way, a necessary part of the whole.  If the farm is out of cider or closed for some reason, I make the trip all over again on another day.  It is a well-spent $6.95 when I finally pop the red lid off and take a few long draughts of the cold cider.  I save the rest to put in my refrigerator when I get home.  The last leg of the drive takes me over Hendrick’s Bridge and along the McKenzie Highway into Thurston, the part of Springfield where I grew up.

This jaunt upriver every year is the recurring highlight of the season for me.  It represents the pinnacle of fall, the time when the season is at its best.  It gives me something to look forward to each year, even if life in general isn’t going ideally at the time.  It is a time for me to think my thoughts, sing along terribly to the radio, and just enjoy the unfathomable beauty that nature offers.  This is my yearly tradition, one of many that I hope to create over the course of my life.

Amazing amounts of importance are placed on traditions involving family and friends.  I completely support these types of tradition.  However, I feel that we don’t know who we truly are until we discover what we choose to do month after month or year after year on our own, what gives us joy over and over again without directly involving others.  Personal tradition gives each and every one of us the ability to escape from everything else and focus on one completely intimate experience, an experience that reflects our deepest and most powerful passions.  More than just about anything, I recommend creating your own personal traditions.  You won’t regret it.

At the Bottom of the Writing Bottle

“You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you.” –Ray Bradbury

And destroy me it will.

I started this blog with the hopes of posting once a week at the very least.  Obviously I have failed, and to my friends who have been reading me faithfully and have wanted more from me, I am extremely sorry.  I’ve known all along that I haven’t been writing nearly as much or as often as I had planned and hoped, but it wasn’t until I read the above quote that I really thought about why.

My reality has been getting more irritating with each passing month.  Various things and people have been irking me to no end.  I spent a good portion of the last few months as nothing more than an apathetic, comatose statue, coasting through reality like Adam Sandler’s character on auto-pilot in Click.  In the process my creativity has been sedated. Lately, however, it is coming back with a vengeance and bringing with it an elevated sense of motivation.  I recognize now that, while one can never fully escape reality—and who would want to, reality is often rather desirable—everyone needs an outlet.  Everyone needs something that will help to preserve their sanity.  My outlet, which I plan to take advantage of a lot more often, is writing.

While I plan to post more often, the bulk of my creative writing efforts will be going into the book I am writing.  It began as a series of short story ideas, but I realized that they all contained common elements and could provide enough material to write a full book.  I am finding new ways every day to tie many of my ideas together.  I can already tell that it is going to be an amazing writing experience, and I hope a very satisfying reading experience.  I am still in the planning stages, but my goal is to have a portfolio of fully-developed character profiles and a full outline of the major plot points and themes that will be included in the book by September.  I will be going to Italy for almost two weeks and I think it will be a perfect time for me to really write a bulk of the story and focus solely on details. 

Ray Bradbury felt that a writer should never stop writing, or risk losing their creative flow.  I fully agree and from this point onward, while doing my utmost to make the best of my reality, I plan to get drunk multiple times a week.  Drunk on writing, that is.  It will take a lot of determination, but the hangover will ultimately be worth it.

(Come on, you didn’t really expect me to write an entire piece without some cheesy metaphor, did you?)