Since I started this blog, I've been thinking more about how I want to manage it, what I want it to contain, and I've realized that I'm not just going to be satisfied with reposting all my old stories. I want this to contain something of myself as well, the "me" that lives outside of the stories. But it's a fine line, whether I should spend my time talking about the minutae of my life, or speaking in broad, sweeping strokes that will mean something to everyone, subjects that might even touch on that cobwebbiest of all writing goals, "chronicling the human condition" (cough cough -- sorry, that phrase was even dustier than I thought it was going to be).
The secret, I think, is going to be balance. There's a way of managing the very large and the very small. Because I'm a child of the movies, the idea comes to me in a very specific way, and that's the way Peter Jackson handled his visual style in the Lord of the Rings films -- it's very hard to put your finger on, but he has this way of showing the smallest facial expression and the most epic battle scene with the same clarity, the same visual weight and importance.
So let me start out with something small: I'm writing this on a laptop I received for my 37th birthday. It's still in good condition, except for the A key that's missing -- you actually have to press the little metal pad underneath to create that particular letter (Amy jokes that it's difficult to work with such an "a-hole"). Usually it sits on a table in the living room downstairs during the day, so that everyone in the house can use it, but at night I drag it upstairs to the bedroom where I write. The battery only gets at most 20 minutes of time, so I've brought up the cord as well, and plugged it into the wall behind my nightstand where there are a few stacks of CDs that don't fit into the five CD towers around the room (Who's Next just happens to be on top of the pile).
I'm sitting on my side of the bed, propped up by a pillow, while Amy sleeps on the other side of the bed on my left, and Lily sleeps in a crib several feet to my right. I suppose I could be downstairs, where I could turn on more lights than just my reading lamp, but I like it here. It's quiet (except for a fan that circulates the air and provides white noise) and peaceful, as evidenced by the two sleeping girls on either side of me. I still have about 45 minutes until I go to bed, and directly in front of me on a tall dresser is a television that is connected to a DVR, which is holding several hours of TV that no one else wants to see but me.
And that's where I am right now. I love being here. My family is safe and secure, and I'm writing. Not bad at all.
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