Once upon a time I really enjoyed listening to Country music. Of course, that was before I went to a giant country music festival and sat, for an entire day and well into the evening, surrounded by people I probably wouldn’t associate with if I had free time and the desire to associate with people (it was the George Strait Country Music Festival) and as a result realized that the directions I imagined my life going, at the time, were not in line with the lifestyles I could clearly see around me and as a result of that I decided that country music, though tame (which was the reason I started listening to it in the first place) was no longer the kind of music that matched my interests and I (rather quickly) started listening to other things. Today, chances are better than even I am listening to Katy Perry, Natasha Bedingfield, Sarah McLachlan, or one of a few other artists that are mostly female, mostly pop, mostly NOT the pop-tarts out in the world, and mostly sing in a way that suggests angy and chick and music. Some people might suggest that this is a retraction of advancement in the complexity and taste in music; and I might not disagree with people, though, keeping in mind the reason I started listening to country music was because I started only hearing noise in the Alternative Music movement that was happening on the radio and very few artists seemed to create music back then that ecclipsed into actual music for me, the outcome is that I find musical tastes that are, in equal parts, whimsical, easy to listen to, non-offensive (to me), and ignorable. When country music stopped being many of those things, in part because I did not relate to people who lost their dogs, trucks, horses, wives, alcohol, and on and on, I stopped really listening to the genre of music regularly. Of course, I do have several CD’s from the artists I really enjoyed, Garth Brooks and George Strait are the two I recognize as still owning, and have considered purchasing the Darius Rucker‘s country album (of Hootie and the Blowfish fame) because there is nothing more interesting than a black man singing in a predominantly white genre. That and I really liked listening to Hootie and the Blowfish back in the day.

With all of that out of the way, the title of the post is pulled from Patsy Cline‘s, Walking After Midnight, of which Garth Brooks did a cover on his The Chase album, in which the protagonist of the song, in a fit of despair, goes walking late at night presumably to clear her or his head. The reason this is important is because it represents an element in creativity that, me thinks, is underwhelmingly ignored by a lot of people and that is the use of walking (and often late night) to clear the head and focus the mind on the task at hand. Believe it or not, this is a method that I have used in the past and have every expectation that I will use it in the future as well.

Last night I was awakened a lot earlier than I thought I would. Honestly, though, I went to bed and didn’t set an alarm (Tuesday/Thursday alarm time is 0800). Instead of getting up and going back to bed I got up and sent Erin to bed and then shut the doors between our bedroom and codename: CAMPER‘s. Normally the only door that is shut is the one leading into our bedroom. The reason for this is because we want noise to travel between rooms and codename: CAMPER, when he cries, even with the monitor on, is hearable so long as both doors are open. Amazingly enough, when both doors are closed the kid can scream his head off and you do not (necessarily) hear it in our bedroom. Especially if you are asleep. I didn’t expect codename: CAMPER to start screaming, but then I also didn’t expect to be awake and needing to shelter Erin from additional cries and the maternal need to make sure he is okay.

I checked on codename: CAMPER, he was fine, looked at the twin bed that Lisa bought when she was in town, and the duvet on top of it, and then dived under the covers. This didn’t last all that long as codename: CAMPER complained about his pacifier falling out. The result of which was me getting up, putting it back in, batting away his little hands, watching as he fell asleep, and then going back to bed myself. The outcome was, honestly, a series of awake and asleep moments, the longest of which was about one hour, where he would complain and I would give him back the pacifier or would give it back, wait for him to stop suckling on it, take it away, wait for him to start fussing, give it back, wait for the suckling to stop, take it away, wait for the fussing, give it back, repeat until he stopped fussing and started sleeping. This was, as one might or might-not guess, was somewhat successful as I believe the longest periods of sleep came as a result of this, but even then it did not last in the tune of hours.

However, when I woke up and then tried to comfort Erin, and then tried to go back to sleep, then realized there was a reason I needed to be awake and made my way around the apartment looking for Erin, and then comforting and putting her to bed, I considered bundling codename: CAMPER up and doing one of two things:

One: go for a long walk and clear my head and focus; or,

Two: put codename: CAMPER in his car seat and drive somewhere.

Unfortunately, neither option was overwhelmingly ideal or desirable which is why I ended up jumping into bed, shutting doors, and trying to get as much sleep as a fussy baby who, we believe, may be hurting and, at the very least, suffering from a cold that can cause body aches and fussiness in adults and this is a baby who is almost six weeks old and as a result would be even more fussy given the body aches and struggle to breathe, and as a result I ended up, at times, hoping that the micro-naps I was catching would do what a sub-thirty-five minute nap during the day does, which is to trick the body into being more refreshed than it really was. By eight in the morning, codename: CAMPER decided to really scream, which Erin would’ve missed because it was separated by a couple of doors which in turn caused me to feed codename: CAMPER who ate insanely fast. In fact, Erin txt-ed me to let me know he ate that fast again a few hours later.

Before midnight, however, we did go out and ended up driving around the much-greater Orem area. We ended up on the other side of I-15 and into a subdivision that had roads built into it but no houses. In fact, I believe had the markets not started the successive crashes we would’ve seen a very different site last night than what we say (lots of empty lots), and instead, people realize that this is a bad time to start building because the cost of building exceeds the value of what is being built and as a result (this is called stickiness in case anyone cares) it doesn’t make sense to build if you can buy new, relatively new, or old for a lot less than it costs to have brand new built.

One of the pleasant side effects of having a new baby has been spending late nights driving around. This is an excuse, for me, to just go. Granted, I don’t always get to think about the cornucopia of things I would like to, or need to, or that just come when I used to drive for long, long hours all by myself or the only one awake and where those thoughts would take me on journies to places that I never really considered before getting behind the wheel. There is something, for me, about that journey (not the actual driving) that is only possible as a result of being able to focus in certain ways and allow the extra-gray matter to focus in a different direction.

With all of that said, Annie Dillard wrote Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, this is one of the premenent nature writing books on the market. It was published 34 years ago. It contains some completely fictional accounts and at the same time, represents a single cycle of seasons as Annie Dillard explores the area around where she is living in Virginia. What I realized the other day was that this is a form of the Hero’s Journey. In fact, the thought came to mind, “The Writer’s Journey,” which ended up being a book on my bookshelf. I didn’t want to focus on the elements of that book as Christopher Vogler is really simplifying the work of Joseph Campbell and his book Hero with a Thousand Faces. Instead, what I am focussing on is the idea that in order to create what she did, Dillard had to go on a quest much like the hero’s journey in order to come up with an effective narrative.

As a result of those connective thoughts and that many authors, the one I use as an example is Charles Dickens as well as Henry David Thoreau and others who then take their wanderings and observations and musings and in the process of all of that also go on a mythical quest where the outcome is, quite literally, a journey that brings the individual writer back a changed person. Whether that change is good or bad is not the question; but that the journey exists and change happens and as a result of both that the literary qualities of those changes are then transcribed into a meaningful work of some form.

Interestingly enough, it is through this walking process that I’ve come up with some of the focusses that I am planning to follow as a student and graduate student in the future. And it is through this process that I found myself thinking about Erin, a lot, and ending up marrying her. It is through the process that I discovered some of the writing focuses that exist (though, admittedly, at least one of them came into being as a result of a multi-day drive across the country that needed some form of outlet and is still being worked on). It is through this that I find personal focus and I feel better and I feel as though I can handle some of the things that, occasionally, I don’t honestly feel like I can handle. The process, of walking, and walking after midnight, is complex; and at the same time, I think I wouldn’t exchange the walks with anything else.

The outcome of my personal focusses in life is that I find connections with things that spark interesting chords, it is through this long-running process that I move forward with my semester and work and focus.

Real Heroes Fly