My Traveling Treadmill Desk Goes to Dodge Park

Scenes from Dodge Park today*
Click any image to view them all larger

* ("today" being a few days ago when I wrote this)

My Traveling Treadmill Desk Goes to Dodge Park

           

           Recently I read several articles about treadmill desks.  You stand at a special desk doing your work (or play) and walk along on a special slow-paced treadmill, killing two bird with one stone.  You get your work done and you get some exercise, too. And, elsewhere, I read that if you walk at a pace that is comfortable for you, you can be smarter, more creative and more productive.   What could be better? 

           My own personal "treadmill desk" could be better for me.  It allows me to work and simultaneously get exercise, be creative and productive, and see an ever-changing scene.  The desk is air, the treadmill is the sidewalks, paths, roads and floors I travel along as I walk.  I have a small "palmtop" computer called a Psion that allows me to write while walking, which is what I am doing right now. 

             Today, the treadmill slipping under my feet is the plowed and paved multi-use path along the Clinton River at Dodge Park.  The sun is shining, the sky is blue, the river is flowing past but there is almost no one else here, maybe because there's a foot of snow on the ground.  I have the whole park to myself.

           One problem with my treadmill desk is the temperature control knobs.  They're non-existent, and it is twenty degrees and windy.  That's 20 degrees Fahrenheit, way below freezing.  My fingers get cold when I write.  Since I can’t type with gloves on, I have to warm my hands in my pockets between sentences.

            Although today, the sky is blue and the sun is shining, other days, I can't control the snow or rain that falls on my "treadmill desk."  I could, however, choose to use my "treadmill desk" at the mall, or, if I could afford a gym membership, doing laps at the gym (not my favorite activity, but still better than an actual treadmill for a change of scene.)

            Another disadvantage of my "treadmill desk" is that the Psion requires XP, and Microsoft is phasing out support for XP.  XP is the last windows that supports the Psion software necessary to download my work form the Psion.  Sadly, Macs do not work at all.

           On the Psion, I've written Cowbird stories (many never published due to computer and other issues), blog posts, flash fiction, poems, short stories and entire (as of yet unpublished) novels.  But my virtual-treadmill way of life may be coming to an end soon because of the lack of compatibility of the Psion with newer computers.

            I could never afford a real treadmill desk; they're bit pricey.  Even if I could, would I like it?  No trees, birds, flowers, dogs to greet and pet.  Then again, no freezing fingers, no rain, snow or wind, no sidewalks treacherous with snow and ice.  Okay, it might be nice sometimes in the winter.  No unbearable heat, sweatification, or bugs and less opportunity for beggars or thieves.  Okay, it might be nice during summer hot spells.

            But then I might miss people stopping me to say they see me all over town, miles from home.  They ask me, "Did you really walk there?"  Yep.  I walked.  And I carried my “desk” with me and wrote a chapter in current novel, while admiring the scenery between thoughts, words and sentences.

            I wonder if there's somewhere you could try out a treadmill desk, to see what it's like.  My husband says, probably not.  Manufacturers have learned that it's best to play on hype, notions and fads.  Most of these things, he says, end up at the curb when people discover that it's not as much fun as they imagined and involves real work and commitment.

           I have plenty of commitment for walking and writing.  I walk and I write every day.  But that commitment might not translate well to an indoor treadmill desk, and that's a lot of money to experiment with.  A moot point anyway, since we can't afford it.

            I like my own special "treadmill desk" anyway, with the big blue dome of sky overhead, the foot of snow underfoot (at the moment, since I'm off the paved trail), the river sliding by and ducks and geese paddling and talking quietly among themselves.

Jacob and the Waterspout

I wrote another new children's book, which is, as yet, untitled. First draft. I decided to work on illos for it, or studies or drafts for them in the moleskine exchange sketchbooks. I am using the large watercolor sketchbooks for another children's book, A Good Day to Stay Home. So I am using the yellow coated paper A3s for this new book. To see the full illo and read about it, go to my image blog, Imagik.

Harvest and writing report

If you are looking for the WeekWord, it is here.

Last night, BB drove me over to the studio house.  While he brought up the trash can and checked his patch on the basement floor, I went out to check the garden.

He came out while I was still in the garden and I piled the day's harvest in his arms (later transferred them to a bag):  3 large acorn squash, 1 spaghetti squash (we'd eaten on for dinner last night, too), one yellow squash, 3 perfect okra.  It was out biggest harvest yet.  There were also lots of little ripe tomatoes which we ate out of hand, yum, like candy.

After that, I worked on my poetry Ms and my new novel.  I did have much time, so progress was limited.

Disappearing:  116-122 pp
Desire:  27-31 pp poetry is slower.

Without my story, what would I be?

"Without my story, I would be a breath of breeze on a still lake, the faintest ripple, the reflection of wings passing, the great dome of blue, filling with mist. I would be emptier than a vacuum tube which sucks into itself the story of the world. I would be nothing, inside out."

for April Belle

I lied

When I wrote the post, “Living Inside My Words,” five days ago on February 4^th, I lied. I lied with the excitement of enthusiasm. I had set for myself the goal of starting a new poem Tuesday morning and working on it twice a day every day during the week between assignments for my poetry class with Dawn McDuffie. And I’d been doing that and was euphoric with happy results. Not necessarily results anyone else would find stunning, but results that pleased me. I was dancing with my muse and I was thrilled. I wanted to share my excitement with everyone I know, especially people who are deep in the creative life.

Of course, everyone secure in the creative life has their own process, and I am afraid I came off sounding a little “holier than thou.” I didn’t mean it—I was just so wired with creative adrenaline. And now I have to admit the truth—most of the time, working on my new poems twice a day is just a goal, not a reality! I do succeed sometimes, it’s true. I also often fail. This week, I missed two whole days. Just too busy.

I do find, however, that I personally am happiest and most successful at my writing if I do follow my stated goals. I also need to be flexible. Life does have a way of swallowing creative time, and poetry is also not my only creative endeavor. So forgive me if I seemed overbearing and obnoxious—believe me, I am all too human!!!

I am looking forward to tonight’s class and all the wonderful work of my classmates. I learn from them all, each and every one, as well as from the teacher—and that’s why we all come together!

Found below is the revised version of my February 4th post:

A Glorious Process

I'm taking a Springfed poetry class with Dawn McDuffie at the Scarab Club. It meets Monday nights. I love Dawn's classes, they are fun, inspiring, and safe. I rarely feel threatened by overly vigorous criticism.

Monday nights, we get an assignment. Tuesday mornings, if all goes well, I write a new poem, based hopefully on my assignment. Tuesday nights, if possible, I review and and revise. Wednesday mornings, if I can, I review and revise again. Though some weeks, I'm too busy, my goal is to read and revise the poem twice a day until I'm happy with it. I take the assignments seriously because I want to absorb Dawn's lessons and learn from myself and the discoveries I make while I work. I'd like to write good poetry.

I have learned that if I inhabit the poem, if I really live inside it, I make discoveries about myself and the world that enhance the poem, at least for me. And each discovery brings a little joy, a little euphoria. Sure, there is struggle, panic. Sure there is the tedium of searching a thesaurus for the right word and of changing phraseology, only to change it back, three, four five times. But then, there is that aha moment when something inside the poem opens to admit me deeper into its mysteries, deeper into myself.

The poem may still not be done, but it's one step closer, and there will hopefully be more ahas and more revisions. Revision means to re-VISION, to re-see, and vision involves awareness of the self and world, of the interconnections of things. That joy of discovery applies to my prose writing as well. It's a glorious process. It's why I write. It's why I take classes with Dawn through Springfed.

Every Monday, we have sharing, I get to hear my classmates' discoveries and learn from their successes and failures as well as my own. A wonderful camaraderie occurs in the classes that makes it all even more fun.

Mary Stebbins Taitt, student in Dawn McDuffie's Monday night Springfed class at the Scarab Club.

PS: art is one of the things I do creatively besides poetry and the piece above is a brand new art piece I did today. If you click on the image, it will expand to a larger size.

Living Inside my Words

I'm taking a poetry class that meets on Monday nights. I've been doing this off and on for several years, with Dawn McDuffie at the Scarab Club. Every Monday night, we get an assignment. Every Tuesday morning, God willing and the creeks don't rise (Forgive the cliche!), I write a new poem, based hopefully on my assignment. Every Tuesday night, I review and and revise. Every Wednesday morning I review and revise, and so on as the week passes until Monday. Monday I spend a good part of the day working on my new, week-old poem, and finally print copies to take to class.

The reason I do this is because I have learned that if I inhabit the poem, if I really live inside it, I make discoveries about myself and the world that enhance the poem, at least for me. And each discovery is a little joy, a little euphoria. Sure, there is struggle, panic. Sure there is the tedium of searching thesaurus for the right word and of changing phraseology, only to change it back, three, four five times. But then, there is that aha moment when something inside the poem opens to admit me deeper into its mysteries, deeper into myself.

The poem may still not be done, but it's one step closer, and there will hopefully be more ahas and more revisions. Not to beat a dead horse, but revision means to Re-VISION, to re-see, and vision involves awareness of the self and world, of the interconnections of things. And it applies to my prose writing as well. It's a glorious process. It's why I write.


(The photos represent a first draft poem and a poem further toward completion.)

(Because No Polar Coordinates in my "Master Blog", even though I already posted this to Half-formed, I am posting it again here. Posted By Mary Stebbins Taitt to Half-formed, the Processes of Mary Stebbins Taitt at 2/04/2009 08:09:00 AM)