Confession Tuesday

Dear Reader,

It's been one week and 3 readings since my last confession.  I've been good, very good, well, kind of good, well, too busy to be anything but good. But I must have something to confess. Yes, I always do.  To the confessional--


I confess I have been hugely thankful for the "fall back" hour we received Saturday night.  This small change has made a huge difference to my just-a-few-minutes-late life.  Sometimes it doesn't take much to help catch up.  Sometimes.

I confess I had been knocking off things off my To-Do list then got into that "I'm kind of stuck" moment where procrastination becomes the best friend handing out cookies.  Yes, I'll have another.  And another.  Then it's "Where did my hour go?!"  Time thief.  No wait, I gave my time away.  I *hate* that.

I confess I have been off Facebook most of this week except for doing a Crab Creek Review announcement about our Fiction contest (we have so few submissions, so if you were ever thinking of entering, I'd recommend doing it now as your chances are much better than previous years) and on the ferry ride home yesterday, I visited Facebook to upload some photos from Sunday's reading.

But what I realize about Facebook is that when you are off Facebook, you don't think about Facebook.  (This sounds a bit like a Fight Club rule.)  But it's true.  The less you're on Facebook, the less you want to be on.  It seems like a huge obnoxious party where you can't get a word in.  Of course, I do on occasion like obnoxious parties.  I'll be visiting in a week, but for now, I'm enjoying my self-imposed break and the extra time that swirls around me.

I confess I am still inspired from my reading at the Frye Art Museum.  Wouldn't it be cool if they rented out apartments in art museums?  I would live there.

I confess once I saw Georgia O'Keeffe's dress at the Tacoma Art Museum and I still think about it.  How often do we see or do something that we still think about?  For me, seeing an exhibition stays with me.  I cannot tell you what the last movie I saw (I am still in a debate with my husband that I actually *saw* motorcycle diaries--he said I saw it, I can't remember it), but I remember when I saw the Jasper Johns exhibition at the Seattle Art Museum in Volunteer Park in 1988 and I purchased a $25 box/hunk of chocolate designed to look like a giant stamp in a box signed by C.T. Chew, a local artist, also who has work at the museum (a HUGE sum for me as a college undergrad).

I confess when I am not connected with art, I am just not connected.  Poetry included.

Amen.

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