Alyce Wilson (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
alycewilson) wrote2022-04-28 06:05 pm
alycewilson) wrote2022-04-28 06:05 pm
LJI Week : In Pursuit of Quiet
This is my entry for <a="http://therealljidol.dreamwidth.org">LJ Idol. This week's topic is "Pursuit."
In Pursuit of Quiet
Innovation is a novel
process, the computerized voice
intones. As my son hums
tunelessly, taps his fingers. When you act
in an assertive fashion, you know
what you want and persist
in getting it, the voice tells him.
Vocabulary homework.
He asks me
what's for dinner. Homemade
chicken nuggets, easy
and gluten-free. Dinner
handled, I strive to type
anything worthwhile.
When you really push something,
you give it up or let it go,
the computer says. My son mutters
a joke, sotto voce.
Welcome to my now. My last
two years. My forever
after. A work-at-home writer
whose creative space never
quiets. Endless Zoom meetings,
then homework, video games. Noise.
Omnipotent. My son half-
rises, repeats deeply, "All power." Makes
a hissing noise -- rockets taking off.
"Omnipotent," he repeats.
The rocket sound again. I wonder
if, on test day, he'll hear rockets.
My son cheers, makes a trumpet sound
with pressed-together lips.
The voice continues: Relinquish. To
voluntarily withdraw or retreat.
My cursor blinks.
---
While my son goes to school in person these days, he does have a lot more computer assignments than in the before-times. My husband is now permanently working at home for the nonprofit where he works as an IT manager, and he is on Zoom meetings constantly! These days, my only alone time comes either in the car, while taking a nap, or on the green-space breaks I take in local parks for at least a few minutes whenever I can spare it.
In Pursuit of Quiet
Innovation is a novel
process, the computerized voice
intones. As my son hums
tunelessly, taps his fingers. When you act
in an assertive fashion, you know
what you want and persist
in getting it, the voice tells him.
Vocabulary homework.
He asks me
what's for dinner. Homemade
chicken nuggets, easy
and gluten-free. Dinner
handled, I strive to type
anything worthwhile.
When you really push something,
you give it up or let it go,
the computer says. My son mutters
a joke, sotto voce.
Welcome to my now. My last
two years. My forever
after. A work-at-home writer
whose creative space never
quiets. Endless Zoom meetings,
then homework, video games. Noise.
Omnipotent. My son half-
rises, repeats deeply, "All power." Makes
a hissing noise -- rockets taking off.
"Omnipotent," he repeats.
The rocket sound again. I wonder
if, on test day, he'll hear rockets.
My son cheers, makes a trumpet sound
with pressed-together lips.
The voice continues: Relinquish. To
voluntarily withdraw or retreat.
My cursor blinks.
My son works on a computer project
---
While my son goes to school in person these days, he does have a lot more computer assignments than in the before-times. My husband is now permanently working at home for the nonprofit where he works as an IT manager, and he is on Zoom meetings constantly! These days, my only alone time comes either in the car, while taking a nap, or on the green-space breaks I take in local parks for at least a few minutes whenever I can spare it.