You handed me this pad and this pen with which I write…

So as to not disappear indefinitely (that’s the word of the month, ps), as I am wont to do, I thought I might should drop in briefly.  How long can I get away with the “I don’t have internet” excuse?”  I suppose not while I’m housesitting, which I am currently.  Oh well.  Deal.

I’ve actually been writing a ton lately, just not here.  I’ve actually been writing fiction.  [I'll give you a second to pick your jaws up off the ground]  It’s true.  To be sure, I never really expected to be writing it.  It just kind of happened.  Fell into my lap.  The characters appeared, and I couldn’t NOT give them life.  I’m only about 15,000 words into it, but as far as I’m aware, it’s not even half over.  I’ve been trying to write regularly, to be disciplined about it–something I’m not good at making myself do, as evidenced by my plethora of hobbies at which my skill level is mediocre–and I’m hoping to finish it before November.

Why November?  Because November is National Novel Writer’s Month.  In other words, thousands of people attempt to write a novel (50,000 words) between midnight November 1 and midnight November 30.  I gave it a shot in 2006, got about 2000 words in, and then my life fell apart.  If only I were joking about that last part.  In any event, last November wasn’t nearly as insane as the one before, but was still pretty ludicrous.  So here I am in 2008, ready to give it another shot!  And this time, I’ve actually written a bit of fiction, so I have a slight clue what I’m doing (ok, I still don’t really, but more so than 2006, right?).  I have some ideas about the novel…I know the characters, though they remain nameless, and have a vague idea of plot, so I suppose that’s a good start, right?  And the best part is, Grand Canyon = minimal social life.  So averaging around 1,700 words a day won’t be a problem in the slightest!

Santa Fe, are you there? Do you swear you won’t forget me?

For a quick note, I’m currently in Santa Fe, NM (though I’m heading out of town in about an hour).  It may be the loveliest place I’ve ever visited.  Or, at least, the loveliest city.  To be honest, I don’t particularly want to leave.

The biggest reason that I decided to come up here–it is, after all, about 2 hours out of my way–was the Georgia O’Keefe museum.  I’ve enjoyed her work since we first learned about her in elementary art classes, though I really fell in love with her work during my American Art class sophomore year of college.  I also rather enjoyed Alfred Steiglitz’s work, which I studied again in my Photography class last fall.  After all spending so much time in art museums in Europe, I’ve come to enjoy American art even more.  So of course the O’Keefe museum sounded fantastic.

The truly fantastic part though, which I didn’t know until I got there, was that the current exhibit is “Georgia O’Keefe and Ansel Adams: Natural Affinities”.  Y’all.  O’Keefe and Adams are my two loves.  Far and away my favorites.  They encapsulate everything that I love about painting and photography.  They are the reasons that I started painting and taking photos.  So the museum was pretty much heaven.  I literally walked around the entire time with a huge goofy grin on my face.  I was in my own little world (though I did notice a number of strange looks being shot my way when my face would light up at particular paintings/photos).  It was awesome.

In any event, there were lovely quotes from both O’Keefe and Adams all over the walls of the museum, mainly about their approaches to art and their love for the Southwest.  And I kinda felt like the two were quoting my soul (never mind that Adams died the year before I was born and O’Keefe died the year after).  There was one in particular from O’Keefe that I felt like really captured what I often have trouble putting into words: “You know, I never feel at home in the East like I do here–and finally feeling in the right place again–I feel like myself–and I like it”.

I’ve realized (yet again) in being out here that this really is where I belong.  I simply don’t feel at home in the East like I do out here.  The East doesn’t speak to me like the Southwest does.  It doesn’t understand me like the Southwest does.  It doesn’t beckon me to stay like the Southwest does.  It’s a wonder to me that I’ve been able to spend as much time in the East as I have.  I keep complaining that at some point I’ll have to go back east to go to div school, because there really aren’t any div schools–or at least of the calliber that I’d like to attend–out west.  But part of me wonders if maybe I’ve bought into the mindset and the lifestyle of the East, if maybe I’d never want to go to that kind of school if I hadn’t grown up and been educated in the East.

Part of me wonders if perhaps I’m out here for good.  And at least for now, nothing would make me happier.