Day 2

Is it really day 2? Is it only day 2? Is it really 7pm and I'm sitting alone in my hotel room in Times Square?

Surprises and acknowledgements mark today, the surprises are sweet and the acknowledgements aren't, and the story is somewhere in the middle.

I woke with a jolt this morning, frightened that I had overslept or the alarm had failed to ring, the morning sky bright, minutes before sunrise. Oh no!  What happened?  5:30?  What? And then the realization dawned with the sun that longer daylight hours will be my companion on this trip.  Woo Hoo!  There is nothing that I like more, and I mean that with all sincerity, than to wake to the sunshine.

The city, the subway, the people, the traffic, all negotiated without problem.  But for the city, it's busy, it's alive and as much as I have loved the last 24 hours, being here, by myself...or what may as well be, has reassurred me that while I will enjoy the next 13 days, that at this place in my life, I feel that I'm living where I should be or at least where I want to be and by that I mean geographically..

The morning workshops were wonderful!  The stories of children and their writing left me inspired...made me cry...and drove me to want to write more than ever.  They also led me to realize the power of the process and the value of this gift that I've been given.  So I write.

The afternoon workshops, well let's just say, that some presenters are more prepared and better story tellers than others.   Coherence and flow, and connecting the big picture to individual roles...how does this process play out for administrators?  Where do we fit with coordinating and facilitation?  It should be more than learning the steps and guessing whether we've done it right.

Part of my goal in coming here, was to get some perspective on issues in my life. Problems and responsibilities that I'm owning that aren't mine, except by my own making and adoption.  The power that the perceived expectation holds over my actions, not wanting to let others down or to disappoint...and yet I arrive in this city, full of expectations, and my sense of what I SHOULD do has left me to accompany one who should not need her hand held.  And so I devote some half hearted time to "doing what I should" and then making excuses of chores that I must do to escape to freedom.

Freedom.  Is that what this is? Make the obligitory calls to family and take a quick walk.  Watch all the people passing so quicky by. Most in their isolated bubbles, no eye-contact, purposeful steps, taking them quickly to unknown destinations. And so it's 7pm and I'm back in my hotel room, writing this.

Homework looms ahead, and tasks for the work that sent me here.  But for now, it's 7pm and I sit and write...and wait for the grocery man to bring my rations for the week...and coctails, because who would think that a liquor store would be so hard to find ...so for now, I'll sit here and write.