(no subject)
So, a fellow grad asked me, more or less, why I was in the art department and not in a film school. My rankles are up, and I am offended and want to give them all the finger. Then I want to go back to staying at home a hiding in my role as mommy. But I also don't want that because I was suffocating at home.
Anyhow...bitter bitter days, weather as well, cold and wet, blustery and unkind.
My own hell I have created, too busy to see my friends, guilty always for not doing certain things...a life too full.
And the loss of a friend, so unfair. An image of him dead on the road, created in my mind, a big dead lump.
My resolve hardens but at what expense, I mean really, how can I just march on and face the battle, day after day, telling myself that it will work out somehow, things will be alright, just wait and see. Persevere, yes, but fervently like a rodent, not like something more noble. My accomplishments seem to take me further from friends, further from compassion, further from anything I thought familiar. So I don't know how to speak of the things I do, I don't know where I should stand, in which light I should place myself. What am I? Am I the job or jobs that I do? Am I mother? Am I middle-aged housewife? Am I an ex-musician or ex-artist? Am I a hobbyist? Am I anything?
And so it goes.
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