*reference to The Who song unintentional but appreciated.
Before reflecting on the question in the title of this post, an update: As usual, I have too many projects going on at once. For me, the danger of doing creative work is that it’s too stimulating. Too many ideas. Too many possibilities. Too many things to read, to write, to wonder about.
My main project is run!. As I train for my first marathon in the fall of 2017, I’m writing about running, tracking and studying as many ways as possible that other runners tell stories/write about running and reading about the relationship between running and writing/creating and running as prayer. As part of this project, I’m also in the final week of an online poetry class in which I’m experimenting with different ways to write while running. I’ve recorded my self reflecting as I’m running and composing a poem while running up a steep hill. I’ve crafted a poem in question form, drawing from details in my running log. And I’ve created 3 erasure poems using 3 of my running log entries. Check the poetry out here: run.room34.com/my-running-stories
In addition to working on my run! project, I’m periodically revisiting my teaching portfolio and undisciplined dossier project. As I’ve moved on to other projects, I’ve lost my way a bit with this one. The question that motivated the project was, Am I a Teacher?, with the implied answer: yes, but…in ways that I still need to figure out and that are undisciplined and unconventional. Now, I’m not so sure. I feel more like a writer, a storyteller, an artist (of sorts). Where does that leave my project?
And, I’m redesigning my sites and experimenting with how to use my main site, undisciplined, to highlight my creative projects. Speaking of my main site, I’m working on a new version of the “about me” page that includes my various identities: Sara, undisciplined, ex-academic, storyteller and troublemaker. I’m calling it, “Who are you?,” which is a question partly inspired by Judith Butler and her book, Giving an Account of Oneself. Here’s what I’ve written so far:
Who are you?
I imagine this question as a demand to give an account, but also an invitation to experiment with crafting some answers.
Who do I think I am?*
What have I done?
What am I doing here?
*When I imagine these as demands, I often place a “just” at the beginning of each question.
Who are you?
An accusation and an opportunity
to leave a trace,
to bare some responsibility,
to weave a few stories.
Who am I? I am