Cave, Sweet Cave
Done.
As in "I'm toast."
Five days in Disneyworld, come home, throw some laundry in, repack for overnight trip to Raleigh-Durham. Baby (20 months old) has a fever and cold and more mucous than something that small should have. Flying? Hell. Driving back from Raleigh? More hell. Back again, laundry going full guns. Four kids, three dogs . . . travel . . . is it worth it? More than that, do I even like to travel?
Answer?
No.
And it's not just the packing and laundry and lugging suitcases, the security at the airport (NOTE: The TSA at the Orlando airport is possibly the rudest group of people I have ever met in my entire life. RUDE! Separated me from my minor children on long lines, nasty to me, pushy, rude, rude, rude). So no, it's not just that. It's this umbilical cord to my desk. When I return and hunker down in my writing space, I can feel myself exhale.
Remember when I blogged a few days ago that I was going to speak to nine classes of third-graders? They were great. And I kept emphasizing a writer isn't something you become. It's not something you aspire to be "when you grow up." It's something you are. And never is that more apparent to me than when I come home to my space where I create. I am intrisincally tied to this space as where I feel most comfortable.
I am starting to wonder if I am a hermit. It is this space I love and getting to sip my tea (for anyone wondering, I never slipped . . . coffee free, and major macrobiotic diet . . . 11 pounds lost, feeling fab, no Crohn's symptoms--amen to acupuncture and LOTS of little needles--LOL!) and feel my mind spreading out, like taking a big stretch and going . . . Okayyyyyyyyyyyyyyy, now where are we going in that brain.
On the flipside, I still love a good party. But I have definite hermit tendencies.
Anyone else? Are you tied to your CAVE by some cosmic creative umbilical cord?
As in "I'm toast."
Five days in Disneyworld, come home, throw some laundry in, repack for overnight trip to Raleigh-Durham. Baby (20 months old) has a fever and cold and more mucous than something that small should have. Flying? Hell. Driving back from Raleigh? More hell. Back again, laundry going full guns. Four kids, three dogs . . . travel . . . is it worth it? More than that, do I even like to travel?
Answer?
No.
And it's not just the packing and laundry and lugging suitcases, the security at the airport (NOTE: The TSA at the Orlando airport is possibly the rudest group of people I have ever met in my entire life. RUDE! Separated me from my minor children on long lines, nasty to me, pushy, rude, rude, rude). So no, it's not just that. It's this umbilical cord to my desk. When I return and hunker down in my writing space, I can feel myself exhale.
Remember when I blogged a few days ago that I was going to speak to nine classes of third-graders? They were great. And I kept emphasizing a writer isn't something you become. It's not something you aspire to be "when you grow up." It's something you are. And never is that more apparent to me than when I come home to my space where I create. I am intrisincally tied to this space as where I feel most comfortable.
I am starting to wonder if I am a hermit. It is this space I love and getting to sip my tea (for anyone wondering, I never slipped . . . coffee free, and major macrobiotic diet . . . 11 pounds lost, feeling fab, no Crohn's symptoms--amen to acupuncture and LOTS of little needles--LOL!) and feel my mind spreading out, like taking a big stretch and going . . . Okayyyyyyyyyyyyyyy, now where are we going in that brain.
On the flipside, I still love a good party. But I have definite hermit tendencies.
Anyone else? Are you tied to your CAVE by some cosmic creative umbilical cord?
posted by Erica Orloff at 12:07 PM
14 Comments:
My kids call me anti-social. I'm not... it's just that I prefer to be sociable during the day.
Evening/night I like to be at home, in my office writing (aka chatting on msn or reading blogs) or watching the TV. And I don't care if no-one talks to me. I'm happy in my own little world.
During the day, however, I go crazy if I don't get out of the house... which can be a problem when you work from home. I feel trapped if I can't get out...
Hi Sara:
Whole days can go when I don't leave my house, and I love it. If I could order every single thing online--groceries, clothes, school supplies, EVERYTHING--and never leave, I would. (I know I CAN order all that, but cost/time prohibitive).
I don't know why . . . I like solitude. And this from someone with a crazy house full of people. :-)
Erica, I so know about traveling with a small child who is ill and full of mucus. Seriously not something I would even wish on Rumsfeld (well, ok, I would, but you get what I'm saying). I hate the TSA with a passion that is hardly explainable in words. I used to be a systems and network security auditor for the Federal Government... a hacker for the good guys. I know a thing or two about both computer and physical security since the same principles apply to both. The TSA is doing feel-good security theater instead of actually addressing the real issues. I'll get off of that soapbox now, but boy can I rant about it.
Back to the point, I love talking and hanging out with people, except when I am writing. I have to have at least a minimum of solitude (headphones and music) to be able to actually focus and write something. Social person, creative hermit.
Brian:
That's a good description for me in some ways. I love to entertain, party, play poker . . . but I crave being alone in really profound ways, and I don't particularly like having anyone around when I am writing.
As for the TSA, they made me dump out Sick Baby's sippie cup because I had liquid in it, and the woman SMIRKED at me, and made a snide comment. SERIOUSLY!
E
I prefer to stay home. I tend to give dirty looks in the store. I'm convinced that someday I will take my cart and see how many people I can ram into.
I hate crowds, noise, traffic...
Yep. I could be comfortable as a hermit. Given the opportunity, I would take a Salingeresque existence, only I'm pretty sure I would want to continue publishing. I'm a loner and a Ham at the same time, if that makes any sense. :)
Erica! Welcome back! Missed ya, babe. Funny you should talk about umbilical cords and safety zones. It's Monday morning right now and here's what's going on:
1. I left my house this morning to go to work a big, giant, circusy, pigstyish mess.
2. I savored my 45-minute, 14-mile commute, listening to the hypnotic cadence of Simon Jones reading "Imperium" by Robert Harris.
3. I sat on my ergonomically correct chair at the day job with a sigh, thanking the lord for the peace and quiet of a Monday morning.
4. And I sipped my mint tea like I was having an orgasm.
MOnday mornings at my desk at the DJ. I *love* it. And I'm not kidding. I think BUddha himself would be grateful for this tranquility after the zoo-like weekends I have, even if it is at the Day Job.
PS: Hugs to that sweet, sweet, mucus-y baby of yours too. Poor thing.
One mint tea to go, please. Better make it two...
la:
I used to be that way much more. Now I'm more peaceful, but it doesn't mean I like crowds.
E
Jude:
I think it would be cool, in some ways, to write that one great classic and then bow out. EXCEPT that people hound poor Salinger.
E
karm:
I know you've always said that about work/home. But I can't imagine. I think I've gotten too used to puttering around here by myself,
E
Oh, my, yes, I could stay here forever if my kids would let me. :)
(Number Two is reading this over my shoulder and laughing!)
I, too, have a need to "be" with people, though. Which means I am so, so grateful for the Internet, without which I would have no connection to people at all. I have my family, and I have writer friends, and that's about it.
Natalie:
I'm the same. The Internet fills a void for me . . . I like the blogs I visit and my writer pals in cyberspace.
E
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