Today I found out that four of my poems will appear in The Dead Mule School of Southern Literature this fall! I'm pretty excited. The Dead Mule School is a quirky online literary journal that asks all the authors to submit a "southern legitimacy statement" rather than a regular bio. (Mine talks about saltwater marshes and homegrown tomato sandwiches!)
Another cool thing about the Dead Mule School is that they publish everything -- poetry, fiction and essays. I look forward to reading my own work alongside some great prose from other southern writers.
I woke up this morning promptly at 7 a.m., after retiring early last night, and lolled around in my bed until around 8. I came downstairs, made great coffee with real cream, and came directly outside to sit on the porch.
I have spent the last five hours on the porch, much to the amusement of my neighbors and roommates. I've done everything from read a couple of essays by E.B. White (one of my favorites as y'all recollect), talk to my neighbor, lie in the driveway for about half an hour soaking up the sunshine and watching the rolly pollys (ok I did have to move a few feet for that part), sing along to songs, and now write a blog.
Later, there will be a trip to the library and a house warming party to enjoy. But for now I can't see any reason to move.
I think I could live my entire life on this porch if I really tried.
This morning, I woke up in a cozy bed and came downstairs to my air conditioned living room, where my roomie had made me a cup of (not excellent but drinkable) coffee. Now I'm on the internet, blogging and reading whatever moves me.
Last night, I had a yummy dinner, plus a beer, with two friends.
I live on James Island, right outside of Charleston, SC. I'm the Managing Editor of a community magazine with a cool boss and colleagues. My mom loves me. My sister lives down the street.
Yet sometimes I feel lost.
The other day I was driving to a book club meeting in West Ashley when, by accident, I turned off into a neighborhood a little ways before the street where I meant to turn.
No need to turn around; this neighborhood probably leads back to the highway, I thought to myself.
But as I kept driving I realized I was getting lost. Twists and turns led me down narrow streets with cute houses, people working in their yards, gardens, and kids riding scooters.
I don't know where I am, but this is a nice place, I thought to myself. There are worse places to be lost.
Right now, in life, I have the vague sense of being lost sometimes. I question whether I should stay in Charleston long-term or move elsewhere. I question decisions regarding my personal life and my career. I question everything, pretty much.
But I'm lost in a pretty nice place -- my life. My life is full of good moments and reasons to be happy. It occurred to me, while I was driving around that neighborhood, I didn't have to be in any particular hurry to find the highway. I eventually found it after a pleasant drive.