Rambling thoughts

The semester is over at Brockport and I'm wondering if anyone is still out there. I wonder if these blogs will remain active or if they will merely fizzle, fade away into the world of dashes and dots, pluses and minuses, memories held within the neural pathways of cyber-space. For me, the entire experience, the Creative Non-Fiction Workshop was good. I would say that the class in and of itself was worthy of a memoir. Aside from some great discussions about a variety of creative writing, there was emotion. There was laughter and anger, feelings of bonding and separation, acceptance and rejection, elation and sadness. Some essays were side-splitting funny. Others, we fought tears. I think the last project, the "unwritten essay" which we each read in class was the most revealing. The entire semester, I thought we all were being honest and revealing about ourselves until that last essay. What a stark contrast. It was the difference between a formal ball-room dance and running naked in the rain; between sipping french wine in a posh Hollywood restaurant and staggering into a parked car, hurling on the passengers door handle. I have to say, Ellen's piece was the hardest hitting for me. I can't get "the last time" out of my head. There have been too many "last times" in my life. The hardest was the last time I held my ex-wife. It was the night before I left. I suppose if I am to continue writing here, it is time to venture into that memory
So, with Black Friday behind us and Christmas in front of us (I wonder about those two contrasts being juxtaposed), and the soccer-moms scurrying around the malls like squirrels raiding my bulbs, fighting amongst themselves for that last x-box, I stand in the cold outside my house, peering into the living room, the room with four windows, searching for the guy inside who looks for an escape...maybe I can help him open the Fourth Window, now that I know how.