The Ocean Blue

I've been sitting here for a few hours working on my Master's Thesis.  It's hard to understand how difficult it used to be to tell the world about your passions, things that piss you off, things you want to see changed.  Consider women in the early twentieth century.  They barely had the right to vote but some of them were really able to make changes by using "social media" of the day:  art and literature.

We have it so easy now.  We just go to our computer or pick up our "smart phone" and start writing.  That quickly it's published to the world.  I was reading one such publication earlier about the World's Ocean Day.  My comment to that article was about a recent visit to an art festival in my town that is held every year over Memorial Day weekend near the Susquehanna River.  This festival brings a lot of people to town, quite a few from way out of town actually.  It's centered around the river.  The festival generates a lot of trash since there are food vendors, etc.  People who don't think about recycling just pitch the trash in whatever receptacle is nearby.  That is, if it makes it there.  I noticed many people just leaving their trash were they consumed what was in it.  How lazy is that?  In addition to that, a storm came in with a lot of wind. While waiting out the storm, I couldn't stop thinking about where all that trash was going to end up...in the river and ultimately in the ocean.

Do you know about The Great Pacific Garbage Patch?  I find it interesting nature's attempt at keeping the garbage in certain areas and even away from people for the most part.  Nature can only do so much.  The thought of all this crap floating around the ocean just disgusts me.  People are selfish and lazy and when I talk to people about recycling and doing things differently they say "who cares?"  "Me doing this one little thing isn't going to make a difference."  If everyone says that, no it won't.  If we all say "I can make a difference by changing this one little thing" it will make a HUGE difference.  Please do your part. 

Things Remembered

I was reading a friends Facebook page where he had posted a song that he sings to his son to put him to sleep.  It's not a lullaby or even a child's song, but a song by Brian Eno.  I got to thinking about being sung to sleep as a child.  It may have happened but I don't remember.  I do remember, however, singing, with my dad as a kid. 

Generally the singing would happen on a road-trip somewhere.  Generally they were Christmas Carol's that were sung too.  My dad could not carry a tune to save his life.  My mom on the other had was an accomplished, even semi-professional singer.  So, of course our singing was pretty unpleasant to her, I'm sure.

I was recently on a nature walk in northern Dauphin County.   I don't want to call it a hike, because it was pretty flat and was a cleared path owned by the Game Commission.  A hike to me equals some sort of physical strain, getting smacked in the face with branches, poison ivy, etc. This walk followed along Stony Creek.  This is a place my dad would take me fishing when I was a kid.  Now, fishing as/with a kid usually resulted in "hey, I think I got something!"  Um, no, you have your hook stuck in the tree/rock/shirt, etc.  I would often come home with Box Turtles that I would keep for about a week in the cellar window well.  Then my dad would return him from where he came from.  There would be snake sightings as well where my dad would quietly point out a Black Snake sunning himself which usually resulted in a shrill scream from me and the snake taking off like a shot.  Sometimes I would see a snake on my own, when I ventured out to "use the facilities?"  I would quietly come (running) back, having NOT used "the facilities."

While on this recent walk in the woods, I left the path to walk down by the creek.  I could hear it from the path but couldn't see it through the woods.  Finally I saw it, a bend in the creek some water rushing over rocks, and a sandy shore. Suddenly I had the overwhelming feeling I had been there before.  I thought there would be no way of knowing if I had been to that exact spot in the past, maybe with my dad.  The woods do seem to all start to look the same since there are no real landmarks.  I did lose my way trying to get back up to the path.  Kind of scary for a moment. 

It was kind of nice being in the presence of my dad again, down by the sandy shore, even though my dad was only there in spirit.  I miss those days of hanging out with him and discovering a new creature, the excitement of catching a fish...or rock...or tree.

Writing

For those two (or possibly three) of you that check back here periodically and usually find that I STILL haven't updated my blog are probably pleasantly surprised today. 

Much of the delay in writing this time around is because I'm working on writing my Master's Thesis.  This will undoubtedly be the longest thing I've ever written at about 50 pages or so.  I hope to even have more.  As of this time I've written 19 pages and have a lot of editing already so it may be cut down to 15. 

I was hoping to have this monster under wraps for a May graduation but I'm going to need more time and so it seems December 2012 is when I'll be walking across the stage to get my diploma.  Then I wonder, should I even bother walking the stage.  I mean I'll get to wear that really cool "hood" which I'll undoubtedly need for when I'm a professor at a college and have to attend other graduations. I just don't know. 

The pleasant weekend weather does not help the writing process either.  It's no fun being chained in front of the computer when the sun is out and the temps are up and there's yard work to be done.  Fortunately today didn't start off with sunshine so I'm writing....not my thesis but I'm writing!

I think the thing I find most frustrating about this writing process is the editing.  You know when the professor hands back a paper with arrows and question marks and squiggly lines all over it when you are 100% sure the paper you turned in was concise and required no changes.  I think I can officially scratch off being a professional writer from my list of things I want to do when I grow up and it's all editing's fault.

I think I'll shampoo the carpet.