Springtime in December

In literature, poetry, and songwriting, the winter months, most notably December and January, have long been used as symbols for dark and somber periods, for death, cold, and other elements often associated with that time of the year (at least in the northern hemisphere). In increasingly typical fashion for me, I’m bucking the trend.

November was a rather rough month for me. I won’t get into too much detail, but between stress at work (observations gone awry, having to get my grades done a week in advance, getting everything squared away for my absence from school for four days on an international field trip, figuring out what the heck my students had been doing and what I need to have them do next upon my return from said field trip, and preparing for student-led conferences on top of the usual first-year teacher insanity), lack of proper sleep for several weeks running, and a series of events and observations that kind of soured me towards Dubai and its shallowness, I was mentally, physically, and emotionally struggling. Homesickness started to hit in full-force, largely propagated by an amazing trip to Jordan (whose rolling hills, naturally verdant landscapes (in places), and cool, cloudy weather reminded me at times of Tallahassee; the trip culminated in my seeing the kids’ parents greeting the students as they returned from to Dubai the last night), and I was really starting to get down.

Our school’s work days for the month of December were recently cut to just the 14th through the 17th. I was planning on just staying in Dubai for the month and write, but, since I’m now leaning towards just staying in this country for the two years of my current contract (instead of extending it another year like I was considering doing prior to becoming disillusioned about the city in November), I figured that I needed to do as much traveling as I can while I’m here. So I’m going to Rome for nine days. On my own. It’s a place I’ve always wanted to go, and it’s a trip I definitely think I need to take right now. It should be inspirational, both in bringing out my muse (more on that in a moment) and in bringing up my spirits for life in general. In more ways than I can say, I’m quite excited.

In addition, I’m resolving that, henceforth (in theory, for the rest of my life), I will write at least one page a day. On my novels, on a short story or novella, on a blog entry or whatever. Just to write. Just to stay in practice with the passion that I’ve allowed myself to neglect over the past few weeks. I’ve used the excuse of late that, were I to launch into writing on another major project, I would become obsessed with it at the expense of sleep or other activities, as I’ve been known to do in the past. And, truth be told, I probably would, but as it is, I’ve still managed to putz around at night to deprive myself of sleep with admittedly much less productive activities. And if I can find the time to read fifty-five books (no, seriously) in my first three months here, then dang it, I can afford to put pen to paper (or finger to keyboard, as it were) and write on a daily basis. Given, the chances that I’ll be able to stop my daily ritual at one page, or even five, is slim, and this was the main reason for my postponing of writing on my major works for so long. But so be it. My mind is constantly coming up with new ideas for stories, gleaning them from the sights, sounds, people, and experiences that I’m encountering on this amazing adventure I’m on. I need to put them down. Besides, writing is decidedly cathartic for me, so beyond indulging in my great passion, beyond increasing my repertoire of written works, beyond practicing my craft, I’ll be releasing the stress of my rather hectic life. And it’s a heck of a lot less expensive and more productive than a lot of other de-stressors available in this town.

I’m also planning on writing a good deal while in Rome. Lots and lots to see, but I know I’ll be back, both soon and often, and I just want to have a nice relaxing trip. Meeting people, doing some sightseeing, some photography, a little reading (I’m taking Virgil’s Aeneid, just to be meta), and a lot of inspiration and writing. I think it’ll be cool to say, ‘oh yeah, I wrote that passage while sitting on the Spanish Steps,’ or whatever.

Thus, this December shall not be the embodiment of the cold darkness that it oft symbolizes in poetry and prose; instead, it shall be the advent of a new springtime in my life, of brighter horizons, of indulged passions and inspirational experiences, of hopes, dreams, and resilience. And if that’s what my December looks like, I can’t wait to see what the actual spring months hold for me.


Postscript:

I’ve been slacking on blog entries the past few months, and I apologize for that. I hope to have more entries up in the coming weeks, including a completed (albeit condensed from its initially conceived scope) entry on my Bangladesh trip, one on my Jordan trip, and one on my upcoming trip to Rome. Stay tuned, and thanks for your continued prayers, support, and sharing in my adventures.