I just made the mistake of checking my final grade in Big Girl School and I really should have written this entry before having done so.But, c'est la vie, we cannot unlive, oui?
I was going to write some sort of year end list including all of the exciting, sad, mysterious or otherwise interesting things that happened this year, but I just forgot it all in the emotional tumult.
This semester I took one course. A fundamentals course. With a lab. I passed, but just barely.
Since when am I a C student?
Dear Brain, determination, interest, and self-preservation:
Please return. I have a whole world to conquer and so little time to do it.
Sincerely, Success or failure, I am still me.
They don't print your GPA on your certification, right?
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Friday, December 10, 2010
That is all.
I haven’t written in quite a while and I know you are upset.
Actually I don’t know that. In order to continue writing at all, I have to pretend “You” are still reading and continue this one sided conversation in every long- awaited blog experience. All I really know is what I have or have not done and how that makes me feel. Congested. I feel congested with thoughts, feelings, preponderances, concerns and needs.
I would like to make a list, but I am feeling you are a little tired of lists. Actually, I am tired of lists. And I keep forgetting that you are me.
The Boy’s Grandmother passed away. As the Boss Lady says “Grandparents are special people.” So are Aunts, and Cousins, and friends who believed in you. All of whom have run out of this life much in the same way they came in, quietly, and without pretense or expectation.
It is the quiet that makes me heartsick. The patient waiting for death to come, the quiet resonance of the emptying heart too tired to beat. I am heartsick until it hurts over the people I love, the people I barely know, and the people I see everyday. I know their end is coming. I know my end is coming. I don’t know what comes next. I know what I have been promised, and what others have refuted, debated, believed and wished. But I do not know what is for sure. I am less and less confident that this isn’t just a one way ticket. That the end isn’t just a quietly drawn curtain, closing the show and kicking the guests out of the auditorium, so they may have their own numbers called.
But who cares? Who cares about the long, dark, permanence of our own ends when there is so much to fill these minutes and make them a contrast from the anti-time we experience. The endless papers to write, people to please, tests to pass, food to cook and eat, house to clean, dogs to walk, children who look up to you, money to make, music to hear, creations to create, facebook status updates to laugh at, books to read, snow to shovel, cars to drive, bills to pay, flowers to smell… Who has time to die when we are so busy living, right? Right. Right…
I finally achieved my life long goal of becoming a divorcee. Yay…. My life is complete. That is about all I have to say on that subject. Not very enlightening, and steeped in sarcasm, but it is about all I have left- for anything.
I suppose I have unloaded enough for you. Perhaps, but the next time I find a moment for myself, or you, it might be more cheery. Perhaps not, but you and I both know- well, we both know all of the same everything, so who really cares.
Actually I don’t know that. In order to continue writing at all, I have to pretend “You” are still reading and continue this one sided conversation in every long- awaited blog experience. All I really know is what I have or have not done and how that makes me feel. Congested. I feel congested with thoughts, feelings, preponderances, concerns and needs.
I would like to make a list, but I am feeling you are a little tired of lists. Actually, I am tired of lists. And I keep forgetting that you are me.
The Boy’s Grandmother passed away. As the Boss Lady says “Grandparents are special people.” So are Aunts, and Cousins, and friends who believed in you. All of whom have run out of this life much in the same way they came in, quietly, and without pretense or expectation.
It is the quiet that makes me heartsick. The patient waiting for death to come, the quiet resonance of the emptying heart too tired to beat. I am heartsick until it hurts over the people I love, the people I barely know, and the people I see everyday. I know their end is coming. I know my end is coming. I don’t know what comes next. I know what I have been promised, and what others have refuted, debated, believed and wished. But I do not know what is for sure. I am less and less confident that this isn’t just a one way ticket. That the end isn’t just a quietly drawn curtain, closing the show and kicking the guests out of the auditorium, so they may have their own numbers called.
But who cares? Who cares about the long, dark, permanence of our own ends when there is so much to fill these minutes and make them a contrast from the anti-time we experience. The endless papers to write, people to please, tests to pass, food to cook and eat, house to clean, dogs to walk, children who look up to you, money to make, music to hear, creations to create, facebook status updates to laugh at, books to read, snow to shovel, cars to drive, bills to pay, flowers to smell… Who has time to die when we are so busy living, right? Right. Right…
I finally achieved my life long goal of becoming a divorcee. Yay…. My life is complete. That is about all I have to say on that subject. Not very enlightening, and steeped in sarcasm, but it is about all I have left- for anything.
I suppose I have unloaded enough for you. Perhaps, but the next time I find a moment for myself, or you, it might be more cheery. Perhaps not, but you and I both know- well, we both know all of the same everything, so who really cares.
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