I identify as a creative person. Always have. It’s remained a constant thread through my life, though the expressions thereof have shifted over the years.
Taking this most recent degree has been characterized, for the most part, by having to put down most creative pursuits – unless I can do it more or less on autopilot on the infrequent occasions I watch TV, it’s hard to make the time. This has led to me turning out a truly ridiculous number of crocheted blankets and scarves, and little else.
Except writing. Continue reading
This morning, I came across a wonderful series of blog posts on the 1980 eruption of Mount St. Helens over at Dana Hunter’s Rosetta Stones blog. Her enthusiasm for the subject matter is infectious, and sent me right back to my own childhood fascination with the event. I remember my family going to the interpretive centre thereabouts of 1990 and my awe at the incomprehensible devastation still rawly evident on the landscape. For a while, vulcanology and plate tectonics joined my abiding interest in paleontology, faltering only when I exhausted the supply of kid-friendly geology books in the local library. I still get giddy at the sight of folded mountain strata; it’s one of the reasons I miss living in the midst of a mountain range.
My excitement in reading those blog posts carried with it some anger.
As a small child, I had a deep and abiding interest in science. It started and stopped at the library. While my parents never actually discouraged me, it never went beyond that. Continue reading
I’ve had a novel percolating in the back of my head for the last several years. It keeps threatening to bubble over, but the demands on my life have kept it largely contained. Nevertheless, it has grown characters, a world, and the seeds of a narrative. I’m not sure whether it will ever become a full story or remains scattered between notes and neurons, but up until a few years ago I never believed I would ever apply on a Masters degree either.
The two are interlinked in my mind. Continue reading