uneven surfaces

I finally got a shot of my favorite caution sign on my recent flight from Texas. I always say "wheee" when I pass this sign. Such a graceful fall/dance/leap. If only I could be that composed as I tumble.

I wrote about falling (among other things) in my essay recently published at The Collagist. A clumsy person, I'm often recovering from stumbles and untimely meetings with furniture. I feel just as clumsy in my writing--that I blunder into my next essay or paragraph--but these falls feel much more serendipitous than my physical ones. My writing feels more like this sign--uneven surfaces that I trip over sublimely.

against endings

A lovely little box elder bug somehow made its way onto my table in the Catalyst Café. I glanced over from my laptop, and saw black and red against the blond wood. Hey, I told it, you’re my next blog post! It crawled over my cell phone. What a beautiful image of the natural juxtaposed with the technological, I thought.

Catalyst Café is one of my favorite places in Athens. The building is of green construction, with huge windows and motion sensor lights in the bathrooms. The patio outside its door has lush greenery and a pond complete with frogs—the breathing kind. I look out over the river as I sip great coffee and nosh a Georgian cheese pastry for lunch. The café is the best combination of outdoors and indoors.

I went back to the interview I’m working on for a while. When I picked up my coffee, I found my box elder friend swimming in it.

I took the cup outside and dumped the bug in the greenery, making sure I saw it crawl before going back inside.

So I have this blog, and I use it to keep me awake, to write regularly, and to interact more immediately with an audience. I like the brief essay and how it stretches me, but a brief essay also puts some pressure on the ending. I feel like I need to come up with pithy meanings at the end my posts, but I resist that. I guess I’m just finding my way around the form of the blog.

I think I’ll name the bug Mary.