Internally Conflicted

January 19, 2007

The second edit of The Marker is moving along. Today I completed 216 of the 253 page manuscript. I like this story; it's actually many storied in one, all tied together by the Marker which runs through each vignette. Like I said earler, somewhere, to someone, it's like the movie, The Red Violin.

I'm experiencing internal conflict. There's a couple people, from my past years, that I have phone numbers for that I want to contact; but there's that ol' lazy-headedness that keeps me from picking up the phone. Chris M. and Larry. P., I think of you everyday.

Chris P., I met in an art class when I lived on the other side of the state. We used to have deep discussions about liberalism and conservativism (he the former, me the latter); we used to go out into the environment and draw and paint old barns, and trees, and mountains, and cows; and we used to pray together.

Larry P., once when we were walking back from class, I asked you this question, "What color is it?" And you replied, "Blue." I was thinking about the carpet we had discussed a week or two earlier that you said you could bring to the room the next quarter, and spontaneously asked the question. We laughed hard at the coincedental nature of our discourse because, as it turned out, you were thinking about the carpet, too.

So, anyway, while writing the paragraph above, a lady came to our front door. She volunteers her time for a small organization that helps low income folks and the elderly with bills, house cleaning, rides to doctor's offices, etc., and she was door belling for funds. Ordinarily I would donate the minimal amount, $20. But, due to the internal conflict I was, and still am, experiencing, we wrote her a check for $50.

My conflict is much reduced.