A year gone by

I know I have disappeared under some kind of stone.  

The stone is called no time. 

But, I miss writing.

I miss reflecting on all of the ins and outs of the decision to have a kid, the parenting that comes with aforementioned kid, and the struggles for justice, goodness, and a life of joy that k and I work toward on a daily basis. 

No doubt, it has become increasingly difficult to carve out time to get words down, or art drawn, or books read (though I have been able to really delve into some escapist and not so escapist fiction and non-fiction in the last four months: Jonathan Franzen's The Corrections, Jonathan Safran Foer's Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, Geralidine Brook's The Year of Wonders and March, Wes Jackson's Nature as Measure, George R.R. Martin's A Game of Thrones, Dorothy Day's Diaries: The Duty of Delight, and Michelle Alexander's The New Jim Crow).  But, what I would not give to really be able to have some time to reflect on most of the books I listed back there in writing.  

It really has not been the dawning of parenthood that has kept me from writing and making art.  If anything, parenting willa with k makes me want to reflect and jot down ideas even more.  It has been my personal tendency to live on the edge of working too much, always, that has left my down hours to being solely devoted to my family and nothing more (except devouring books when getting ready for bed or when insomnia strikes or when I am flying on a plane somewhere for work).  Otherwise, I would not be able to really experience my child all that much. 

However, I've made a commitment to myself to not put in hundreds of extra hours in 2012 (hours that I never use the comp up on).  I simply cannot afford to let my life and all of the beauty in it pass me by.  I am, by nature, a recorder of events and stories.  I love to etch in ink, pencil, paint, photographs, and typography the passing of time and the interactions of people, animals, stones, waterways, trees, honeybees, and all living things within that passing of time.  

When I fail to write or make art, a part of me sits hollow. And, depression leaks in.  Not to mention, this winter in MI has been gray, wet and only semi cold--the kind of cold wet that gets under your bones and causes an ache for warmth and sun.  In addition, I need to write in order to better analyze the world and the happenings around me.  Not doing so over the last few months, has let some things seep into my heart in awkward and overwhelming ways.  

With all that being said, let's see if this new blogsy app helps me get some more writing up on this blog.

Will turned 1 on November 30, 2011.  

She is awesome.