Alex Wilson's Journal: Clarion Interlude: Saugatuck

Clarion Interlude: Saugatuck
July 24, 2006

Jen on a bench in downtown Saugatuck.

Jen came up for a visit and we celebrated our five year wedding anniversary in Saugatuck and Butler, right near Lake Michigan. We found out too late to go that it's got one of the best freshwater beaches in the States, but we still had fun. Our four-year-old camera broke on the way out there, so we actually replaced it Saturday, which means I'm more likely to be able to take photos that will look okay at better-than-web resolutions. (more photos, etc. after the jump)

Jen at the docks

Duck.

Though it was a fun, positive, and necessary experience, it was not without its strangeness.

In the same way that Clarion is mostly-welcome interruption of my life, this was a mostly-welcome interruption of Clarion. And in the same way that it's sometimes hard to be present in Lansing (thinking of Jen, Carrboro, and our kittens), I found myself occasionally having a similar difficulty in Saugatuck, thinking probably too much about Clarion--about both my responsibilities and the people I've grown close to. As soon as Jen was asleep on Saturday, I was reading a 60-page story for critique on Monday.

I think not sleeping well in a new hotel bed can be partially blamed for this; my body looks for any excuse to plead insomnia. That and not writing even for a day or two can really affect my ability to focus. But when we returned to East Lansing on Sunday, I felt outside of both worlds. I wanted to include Jen in Clarion festivities for the few hours before her plane left, but I got a standoff impression from some classmates, which I'm sure came from a place of respect ("He's with his wife; let's not bother him too much."). But that--combined with my own attempts to bridge that gap--made me feel like I temporarily belonged to neither world.

I've talked to another Clarionite last night, who has also had some recent spouse-time, and I'm glad to find out I'm not alone in feeling this strangeness. We think it's a "good-to-know" preview of the kind of weird emotional ride we'll hit when we return home in two weeks. Every other minute I change my mind between: "I can't wait for this to be over" and "I can't believe I have to give all this up in two weeks." If only I would have gone to camp as a child, perhaps I'd be better prepared for this.

Miss you already, Jen.