I should write something today. Something profound. Something transcendental. Deep and esoteric. Or humorous and down-to-earth.
I should write something here today. For my readers and my friends. For whoever happens to stumble upon this blog. For posterity perhaps?
I should write a few lines. Several sentences? A paragraph? Or perhaps a treatise. Or just a few words.
I should write about life and its meaning. About the inexorable passage of time. The joys and sorrows of all these years on earth.
All I have are questions:
What does it mean to be this old?
How did I get here?
Why am I?
I suppose Descartes would tell me: "you think; therefore, you are." Ok, but - what next?
I am; I have been; I will be, for a while at least. I hope.
I confess: if I could, I would like to start over. Avoid all the mistakes. Enjoy all the pleasures. Learn everything and teach everyone. So many wrong choices. So many wasted moments. Why don't we get a second chance? I suppose many people believe they do. I wish I could believe it too.
Nevertheless, all in all I've had a good life so far. Some disappointments. Some losses. A few achievements. Plenty of joys. But mostly a smooth journey, sometimes even dull. But - dull is good. It's better than chaotic.
So - I did write a few words, neither profound nor humorous. Just plain. From the heart. And that's all I can manage today.
GARTLER WRITING STUDIO
Sunday, March 24, 2013
Monday, March 11, 2013
NEW CLASS - DON'T MISS IT!
Crafting Stories from Real Life: Creative Nonfiction
LOYOLA UNIVERSITY - DOWNTOWN
Create stories that read like fiction but are based on real
life. Write a gripping opening sentence, use dialogue to bring characters to
life, and incorporate research to add depth to your writing. We will read
examples of this genre and workshop students' works.
INSTRUCTOR: Beatriz Badikian-Gartler
START DATE: 04-11-2013
END DATE: 05-30-2013
No class May 2.
MEETING TIME: Thursday, 06:30 PM - 08:30 PM
MEETING PLACE: Water Tower Campus, Lewis
Towers - Room 605
TUITION: $
275.00
Alumni discount: 15%
Faculty/Staff discount: 15%
For more information, write to bgartler@yahoo.com.
Tuesday, March 5, 2013
SNOW DAY
Outside my attic loft glass door blowing snow makes virtually impossible to glimpse the bare trees or the rooftops, chimneys, not to mention the skyscrapers farther away. Even the "L" tracks are barely visible nor can I hear the rumbling trains as they rush by across the street. It's like looking at the world through gauze. Flakes fly around, dance up and down, fall on each other. The sidewalks must be impassable by now. It's almost two in the afternoon and it has been snowing for a long time. I am trapped indoors.
I suppose if I had something important to do, I would risk the wind and cold and treacherous streets, but, since I don't, I stay home. Count yourself lucky I tell myself. You have a warm house, food, and all kinds of toys to entertain yourself. What are you complaining about? I have no answers. I tend to complain, to whine, to feel sorry, to get bored. Lately I've added feeling at a loss to my repertoire of useless activities. And nothing makes me feel more at a loss than being stuck inside, alone.
I'm supposed to take a walk every day. Walking is good for the body and the spirit. Walk and observe my surroundings, the landscape. Listen to the sounds of streets and nature. Smell and touch. Walk and create. But - the mountains of snow make it next to impossible. At best, they make it very, very arduous. I am not the type of person who does "arduous." I don't hike. Much less climb or ski. I stroll, ramble, then I sit at a cafe and write and read.
Every winter I promise myself not to be here the next winter. Go to Buenos Aires. Or Mexico. Or Florida. Anywhere where it is warm and sunny I tell myself. And my husband. Yet, here I am again, one more year, one more winter. The lead grey sky hangs above my head like my very own cloud of melancholy. Where is the sun? Where are the flowers? Then I look outside the window where the bare tree displays some kind of blooms. What is that? my husband asks. It's as if the tree were mocking us, I reply.
I suppose if I had something important to do, I would risk the wind and cold and treacherous streets, but, since I don't, I stay home. Count yourself lucky I tell myself. You have a warm house, food, and all kinds of toys to entertain yourself. What are you complaining about? I have no answers. I tend to complain, to whine, to feel sorry, to get bored. Lately I've added feeling at a loss to my repertoire of useless activities. And nothing makes me feel more at a loss than being stuck inside, alone.
I'm supposed to take a walk every day. Walking is good for the body and the spirit. Walk and observe my surroundings, the landscape. Listen to the sounds of streets and nature. Smell and touch. Walk and create. But - the mountains of snow make it next to impossible. At best, they make it very, very arduous. I am not the type of person who does "arduous." I don't hike. Much less climb or ski. I stroll, ramble, then I sit at a cafe and write and read.
Every winter I promise myself not to be here the next winter. Go to Buenos Aires. Or Mexico. Or Florida. Anywhere where it is warm and sunny I tell myself. And my husband. Yet, here I am again, one more year, one more winter. The lead grey sky hangs above my head like my very own cloud of melancholy. Where is the sun? Where are the flowers? Then I look outside the window where the bare tree displays some kind of blooms. What is that? my husband asks. It's as if the tree were mocking us, I reply.
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