Twitter has been a refuge for me for almost 8 years now.

Day 0. Yesterday.

I decided just now to make today Day 1 in a daily online entry here on this Twitter, so I'll call yesterday Day 0--a pleasant experience I wish I could return to. I went to two yoga classes yesterday--one in the morning & one in the evening, and I got deep into poses in both. In between the classes, I got to finally organize a bunch more in my wardrobe. Make fun of me if you wish--or don't, actually. Fashion is serious business, and having an organized approach to life and home just as important. I'm tired of thinking I have to acknowledge the tittering at these topics--I'm probably just suffering from a case of didn't-major-in-that. This is a major area of interest for me, and has been since adolescence. But, to put writing to it... , I considered you a BFF from the beginning; Hyper-organized , you not only indulged my OCD, but required & rewarded it. And I learned business--profit goals, business growth, human resource hours.

, , : I could write a book about my adventures within ye. OMG, shopping. Yes, . Yesterday I was ORGANIZED. Hell, I was your Stockroom Supervisor.

Princess Leia died today. The disturbance in the Force goes without saying. .

My brain likes to categorize and wish to archive. It tells me what I am obsessed with, and when other people in this literary zeitgeist are obsessed with those the same. But then, it draws attention to the digital tools, and it's like big hexes go up inside my mind again--if the tools don't mesh immediately, there's no follow-up. I've been brainstorming Barthes as a type of host for my archive portfolio for some time, but am I allowed to do it? Well, not yet. I've been building a characterization--

Now where is essay?

Wanted to take my mother to a Restorative Yoga class this morning, but -- I have to keep writing until I get thru story *about* my mother. I can't have her be this big blank space.
This initiative has gone journally; it reminds me of when I first read May Sarton. It was in a seminar at during my M.A. Art, Artists, and Social Change, taught by Prof. Laurin Raiken. I got so much writing done that semester; he required responses for all the readings. This was 1998. I've still got all the assignments I wrote in a folder. I've still got all the assignments from that entire degree. It was recognizing I was getting my writing sea legs. (I was about 23 when I started there.)

I read 's "Multiple Intelligences" about the same time, and he used Sarton as an example of stellar intrapersonal intelligence. This made me appreciate journaling in a different way.

I'm either craving cheese or chocolate cake. A chocolate cheesecake muffin blends the two, also.

More on that in the future. Now let's talk yoga.

Day 1. Today.

I have lost the flow of writing this, scrolling thru Twitter to confirm it was today. Fact-checking is not my roll-with-it strong process; genre gets redefined because of it. Hyperbole is not me; changing the flow is. Thinking about shutter speed instead is.

Really done in today by the loss of Carrie Fisher. This is a self-portrait from 2006.


It seems I have reached a writer's block for the Day 1 entry I've just been posting. That's frustrating; it's the same wall I'd been banging my head against nearly all day. I'm so angry about this writing block. What is life without narrative? Beyond issues of mortality, I never feel so deflated as when glimmers of writing process arrive in my brain and then disappear without follow-thru. It's like being a different person against my will--a person who isn't called to writing at all. It's like that person is in charge of my brain and chooses that I don't write *for* me, and all I can do is stand within the same body, helpless. Horrendous.

There *is* a yoga class I can go to right now, but I've been in that half-awake state all day, and truly it's been awful. I finally feel somewhat relieved by beginning this journaling project. I'm on a roll; I want listing to be something that works here--after this conundrum, I guess addressing the conflict of the workaholic writer (if I get back to this old self, ) and healthy habits. But hey--that's what I'm here to do. I already knew that was one of my themes, and that's something I've been working toward helping other people with, too. Diving right in right now.

Other things on my mind right now:

  • 's supernatural fiction, & how that has helped me put a metaphor to my animal brain. (I love her vampires & witches, but I suffer as a werewolf.)
  • Walter Benjamin's "Unpacking My Library": I'm dealing with *That* ties back in to my body issues, and this metabolic plane I haven't been able to break thru. But to give myself where it's due, myself into any abs-exercise expectations. All in all--avoiding injuries, being patient, making strides. I'm, like, myself.

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