The weather forecast says six to ten inches of snow. Reality might be anywhere from flurries to a couple of feet. One thing that I have loved about the neck of northeastern New York that I moved into is that people tend to prepare for the worst. Sometimes, schools close before the storm even starts.
This year, however, has been a bit different. Saratoga County has received a lot of snow, but unlike much of the rest of the state and parts of the nation, the dumps haven't been more than the "state birds" (also known as snow plows) can handle. Unlike other less snow-hardy parts of the U.S. where I've lived in the past, the roads in New York are plowed early and often. As a result, while my friends across the country are reporting snow days (codes for days off from school, work, or other obligations), we haven't had one that I can recall -- as yet.
That might change tomorrow. And it might not. Despite the forecast, the flakes haven't started to fall yet. They're not supposed to until after midnight. Which leaves me in an odd quandary.
Tomorrow is mapped out as a day of creative multi-tasking at its finest. At 11 a.m., I've committed to reading a piece at an open mic event being held by the college department with which I'm affiliated in celebration of African American History Month. At Noon, I'm scheduled to read at a storytelling event being sponsored by the Academy of Lifelong Learners, also affiliated with my college. At 1 p.m, I'm hoping to get on the road to North Creek, a town about 60 miles north of here, for an extended writing date. And because I am so dedicated to doing my workouts, I had high hopes of going for a morning swim at about 9:30 a.m., before the craziness began.
But the prospect of a "snow day" has loomed large all day. With it has come questions: How much do I prioritize preparing for these readings over all of the other things that compete for time and attention? How do I handle rescheduling if there is indeed a snow day? And, of course, anxiety: Why did I commit to so much?
That latter question is complex, but in a nutshell the answers lie in beliefs, values, and desires. The first commitment I made was to the Academy of Lifelong Learners. I received an invitation more than six months ago, when nothing was on my schedule for Wednesday, February 5. It was quite easy -- and quite pleasurable -- to say "Yes."
The second commitment only materialized this past Friday, but the roots of desire run deeper. The celebration of African American Heritage is part of a series of diversity related events that began in September and are continuing through June. My research on hip-hop and my work with hip-hop educators -- along with other issues -- has raised my level of awareness of how mainstream, predominantly white society continues systematically to disempower the disenfranchised in general and African Americans in particular. As many political activists, community organizers, and politically aware educators have shown, a "war" continues to be waged in the United States and across the world between those with political, economic, and social power and those without. We all are complicit with this war. As a result, one has a choice of joining the battle against the oppressive forces of society or sitting back. In joining the battle, I wield what I feel are my most powerful weapons: my ability to write and my ability to teach. So, when offered a chance to read what I have written out loud in order to teach via art, I am most delighted to comply. So when a rather last-minute announcement was posted about an open mic, I asked if I could read right at 11 a.m. so that I could head across town -- an eight minute ride (one of the side benefits of living in a small town) -- in time for the Noon session. The organizers responded with an enthusiastic yes. So I was on.
The third commitment is one to myself. The writing date is structured time off. I concluded recently that the only way I was going to complete a long delayed writing project was to lock myself into a room for two or three days simply to write. Hotels serve a vital function for writers in this respect. For a fee, one receives a room, a shower and/or bathtub, linens, a desk -- and most importantly, privacy. At my first-ever writers' workshop in 2003, one participant -- a writer for the Christian fiction trade market -- noted that she always went to a hotel, usually in a place away from her hometown, to finish her books. The prospect of adapting such a practice is beguiling to me, but with the tightness of my household budget, I have just tried to seclude myself without leaving home.
Over the weekend, however, I discovered that I could rent a room for a very affordable rate. I consulted with my husband who deeply desires an end to this project and a return to sanity for his wife and decided to take the plunge. To be honest, my schedule is so packed right now that I didn't think it would be possible to get away at all. But I looked at my calendar and saw that I was free of commitments from 1 p.m. Wednesday through 9 a.m. Saturday, and decided to take the plunge.
It seemed ideal, until the forecast. Now, as midnight approaches, I am wondering: Will there be a reading for African American Heritage? Will there be a reading for the Academy of Lifelong Learners? Will the plows work as well on the roads north of Saratoga as they do here? Will it be safe to drive in order to write?
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