I’ve been largely offline this week, losing patience with the dismally slow dial-up Internet access at my parents’ house and checking on my online classes during trips to Panera that are limited by the staying-power of my laptop battery. Even if I had a lightning-fast Internet connection at my unlimited disposal, though, I probably wouldn’t be blogging much, feeling singularly uninspired. Columbus, Ohio is the place I grew up, but it’s also the place I left when I went to college in Toledo, moved to Boston for grad school, and then settled “for good or the time being” in New Hampshire. Columbus is the place I’ll always call home, telling folks who ask me where I’m from that I hail from Ohio, not New Hampshire…but it’s a place that no longer feels like home, life here in the quietly monotonous flatlands feeling exceptionally far removed from the hubbub of stimulus that is my life in the hilly Northeast.
It’s not so much that I’m bored in Ohio since I brought plenty of papers to grade and other things to keep me busy. It’s just in the presence of so much homework, I feel simultaneously tied to and entirely separate from home, wherever that is. I’ve written before about the curious sensation of being betwixt and between I feel whenever I leave my New Hampshire home to visit my Ohio one, and this trip is no different. Although I thought that coming “home” (or to my “home home,” as I started calling Columbus when I was an undergraduate in Toledo, thereby distinguishing it from the “home” that was my University dorm room) would provide a much-needed jolt of inspiration to the NaNoWriMo “novel” that I’d turned into a spiritual memoir, the exact opposite has happened: now that I’m “home home,” the last thing I want to do is think and write about the weirdly wending path that led me to my curiously Zennish existence in Keene, NH. Feeling uninspired to blog, I’m also uninspired to write, figuring I might shelve this current memoir-ish thing until a time when I actually feel inspired to write something rather than continuing a vain attempt to make-up word-count to meet an admittedly arbitrary goal.
Given my current uninspired state, it seemed fitting to post the above picture of a trashed sofa. Whereas in the hilly Northeast, we stash our unwanted couches in front of our homes, here in the Ohio flatlands, we stick unwanted furniture in the alleys out back. Maybe a forgotten back alley is exactly where I should leave my currently inactive Muse.
Hoarded Ordinaries 
Nov 22, 2006 at 11:59 am
Oh Lorianne, hugs. It obviously really takes a lot to disrupt your muse, so I think you should listen to it and just give yourself whatever you need – if you ever had anything to prove, you certainly don’t by now.
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Nov 22, 2006 at 2:37 pm
I know it’s easy to throw advice around like a hot potato, but I would say from reading your blog that you actually need a serious break from writing or the stress that NOT writing is causing. Don’t let a fleeting lack of inspiration bog you down from having fun with family and enjoying the holiday. Embrace the trip home home, sip some wine wine and tune out for a while while. 😉
You certainly haven’t shown a lack of inspiration thus far! Just balme it on the Ohio ‘flat’lands!
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Nov 22, 2006 at 2:44 pm
Yah, what Jean said. Slow Internet connections are deadly frustrating, as is being away from “home” (unless, say, on a fabulous vacation somewhere fascinating or inspiring, which is not exactly what/where you are!). At least you’ll be able to deeply appreciate it when you are back in your Zennish personal space.
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Nov 22, 2006 at 3:27 pm
You may be *feeling* uninspired, but that doesn’t mean the results here are uninteresting – quite the opposite, in fact. I’m not saying you shouldn’t take a break, as the other commenters are advising, just pointing out that inspiration is highly over-rated.
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Nov 22, 2006 at 7:03 pm
I love the name of your blog!! It’s the ordinaries we breathe in and out, so what better place to grab things to write about. Uninspired muse, who can’t relate to that. Enjoyed reading!!
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Nov 23, 2006 at 8:21 am
Bon courage, Lorianne – I can certainly empathize. And I agree with Dave – sometimes the best thing to do is just “show up” on the blank page. I certainly enjoyed this post.
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Nov 23, 2006 at 11:00 am
Lorianne,
I enjoy reading your blog-so often, you put words to feelings I couldn’t quite identify, myself. Family visits are often hard, at least for me. Try to be kind and patient with yourself.
Mary
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Nov 24, 2006 at 8:53 am
What?!? a tan couch without dried flowers and a cat!?!
Hurry up back to NH, as these beige ways may fly home with ya.
No need to worry Lorianne, your muse was smiling through the lens, as always, there and present, as you are…moment to moment…even in columbus.
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Nov 24, 2006 at 9:25 am
agreed with all. I don’t think the muse has left you. I think she’s out bravely slogging through the Columbus muck and taking good notes, which she will generously share with you upon your return. My (unsolicited) advice on the Nano project: go to mass at your childhood church. It might be a surprisingly spiritually fulfilling or a really good observation opportunity or a better place to meditate than your parents house. Or maybe all three. Personally – I’m off for round two – having done Mom and her husband last night, it’s time for Dad and his wife.
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Nov 24, 2006 at 11:09 pm
I have moved so many times, I don’t answer the “where are you from” question any more. Army guys will answer “My mama.”
Nanowrimo can wait another year. Let it go. Forgive the promise this year, and try again next. Or get a friend to shove you through the process during an easier month, like, say, July.
Peace, friend, you’ve done enough. You were the one who so encouraged me to blog in the first place, and you still have my appreciation.
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Nov 27, 2006 at 1:57 am
My parents moved from my hometown when I was 18 and I have felt largely homeless from a hometown–until now. I really do consider where I am now, Redondo Beach, my true home. I had this hokey little wooden house with a heart on it for a long time that said home is where the heart is. And I remember Ram Dass talking about going from lonely hotel room to room in his traveling days, and ultimately yelling out, “Honey, I’m home,” to God, I guess.
You are probably back in Keen by now and in your familiar Zennish element. I hope the muse returns. Mine is coming and going, I must admit. Did Reggie go home with you, too?
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Nov 27, 2006 at 7:42 am
One winter,whilst practicing law in Miami, I had several trips related to one case, two of them were to Minneapolis and one to Columbus (the one to Newport Beach and Honolulu is a different tale). Columbus was by far colder and nastier on the day I went there. My opposing counsel and I traveled together, and he insisted on stopping as we went to the airport to leave at one of those White Castle places, where you buy “hamburgers” by the sheet, I suppose he had a dozen or so of those little nasties. Stunk up the whole plane. I’m sure Columbus has a lot going for it, but those are basically my memories of the place. The lawsuit eventually settled, but is one of the few that still evokes smell memories.
Your muse is always with you, like the force.
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Nov 27, 2006 at 7:27 pm
Couches in Columbus are stashed in the back so that they don’t become tinder for burning in the OSU/Michigan celebration…
(Your muse is there, I think. She’s just taking a break.)
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Nov 30, 2006 at 8:48 pm
Hey Lorianne. Next time you are in Columbus, give me a call!
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