Fally Folly


I’ve still got a lot of adjusting to do.  Taxes were more tedious than usual this year,  partially due to currency conversion, and also to all the fluctuation and moves in and out that took place from December 2008 to September 2009.  Except for a class description that I’m wrestling with, my next deadlines aren’t till November, and those will not be too, um, taxing.  Now that taxes are done, I want to be working on this:


I got this far at Ragdale; it’s seven feet wide (and the geometric background is a temporary mount).  That was exactly a month ago.

One of the most lovely aspects of residencies is the fact that you are isolated away from the rest of your life, physically and mentally. Even when you are living an allegedly self-directed life, as I am now (and largely was back when I became enamored of the residency experience), that makes an enormous difference.  Even when you’re at a place that does not provide meals or shopping, you still have only your work to confront every day, and feeding yourself is merely an aside.  The trappings of our daily lives have a sticky weight to them, make a psychic as well as physical block.  Right now, mine is this:


My office, which is situated on the main floor between my two studios, is still crammed with the detritus of fifteen years of teaching and administrative work that I dumped there last January, and added to in May.  Since my current life involves an escalated amount of admin on my own behalf, I’m really feeling the effects of not being able to use it.  (I did the taxes, and am writing now, in the main living area). But if I begin working to clear it out, which is the next giant task hanging over my head, it will take weeks: for various inescapable reasons, I will need to go through Every. Single. Paper. File.  There are six big boxes of them; most of it will get tossed into recycle bins, but some is needed.  It’s not just paper: Paul gutted the ancient PC while I was at Ragdale, and gave its two hard drives to a friend, so he could extract my files (the thing is so old that it won’t recognize a thumb drive).  I’ve got to hang onto its body until we get the files back, and there’s nowhere else to put it.  So, I’m in a bit of limbo, not able today to follow my heart (work on the new piece) or my head (begin on the office, even though I know doing so will make everything else much, much easier).

Solution? I decided to write this blog.  I am free enough that, though it won’t solve anything, spending a day waffling like this and taking the time to write it out won’t hurt me either. Realizing that is still an adjustment in itself.