Thursday, June 4, 2015

CATCHING UP WITH MYSELF




"Catching up with myself": This is what I once answered to an incredulous interlocutor who asked some version of, "well it's all well and good to live out there in middle-of-nowhere Italian paradise, but what do you actually DO there?"

Not one ever to get bored (thanks to my busy head), I had to think for a minute about how to respond. That's when the "I'm catching up with myself" popped out. That kind of made sense to the high-powered, sempre-busy Ivy League colleague who posed the question.

To catch up with oneself would probably be a pipe dream for anyone who lives and works at our university. And when I return there after having taken baby steps toward my catching-up goal, I happily climb back on my work treadmill and put my nose to the grindstone. Of course it doesn't hurt to be surrounded by challenging bright young minds who figured they'd caught up with themselves just by being accepted to the school of their dreams. But it doesn't take long to realize that the catch-up game will be a lifetime task. (See 

Over the next 8 months during which I will have relinquished my job benefits to step off my work treadmill, I'll see what it feels like to work at catching up.

And while we're on the subject, my iPhone is threatening to explode. Yes, it has about 5,000 photos on it, many of which are awaiting the blog pieces to go with them. Ditto for the NOTES section of the phone, which seems more indulgent and less threatening. I don't think those alarming warning messages that say, "your phone can't be backed up because your storage is full" are coming from my NOTES.

Nevertheless, it's probably time to do something about both of them. My tech-savvy husband thought the solution would be to put all my photos on the limitless Google-plus. But technodunces like me haven't "caught on" to the retrieval technique that would allow me to just confidently erase all those photos that are weighing down the poor, groaning phone.

So instead of waiting for the Muse to show up and miraculously write and illustrate those stories-in progress, I may just post them in whatever stage of readiness they are, and see what happens.

I've written before about the tension between living life and writing about it. Odd new things catch my eye all the time, as proven by what happened today while I was rummaging around my underwear drawer.

Maybe the time to do some of that catching up with myself is NOW?


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