philosophical.

I just finished reading David Shield’s Reality Hunger and I don’t know exactly how I feel about it just yet, but I do know that it drummed up a real sense of fear and crisis in myself, not much related to the topics he takes in hand. For various reasons, it made me question my resolve, my ability to face myself, to stare into the abyss, and to write from that place. It made me doubt my own honesty with myself. It made me think about how I used to think about truth and how I don’t think about it much anymore.

All this while listening to a background of some cheesy mix called Santa’s Got Style (which I’m thoroughly enjoying, by the way).

I haven’t thought deeply about writing much this year. I’ve thought a lot about what I could write about and I’ve stared at blank pages and blank screens, but I used to ask a lot of philosophical (read: probably pointless) questions about the mechanics of it and the point of it and so on. I haven't done that much lately.

I also have been out of the kitchen for what feels like forever, but really more like a week. So tonight I dipped into one of Heidi’s cookbooks for a rye soda bread that went from bowl to out of the oven in an hour. Alongside that, I chopped an assortment of vegetables lurking in the refrigerator, including sunchokes, carrots, an onion, a leek, a handful of garlic cloves. They all went into a stockpot with butter and olive oil, followed by a few cups of veggie broth, a bay leaf, some thyme, and a scoop of yellow lentils. After it was all soft and cooked, I pureed half and we ate it as a chunky, earthy soup.

I needed soup and warm bread because I biked home from work tonight in cold rain, miserable enough that I swore and grunted under my breath to make myself feel better. But even then, I felt like some sort of champion, standing at a stoplight next to a row of cars, rain dripping from the brim of my helmet, breath steaming in front of me. So even on one of the more uncomfortable rides I’ve had yet, I still at least have the reward of feeling like a badass lady.

I made the mistake of dipping one toe into the Amazon reviews of Reality Hunger and I remembered why I am filled with angst and distrust towards the scholars and the academics and the literati. But also, I’m reminded that my aversion towards conflict and disagreement isn’t always healthy. And if a work of art doesn’t challenge in some way, whatever that way might be, if it's comfortable and easy and purely escape or entertainment, then…….then what is the point?

Finally, I land where I always do, feeling that the best thing I can do is keep my head down and plug away and write what I need to write.