(no subject)
"All those years...they were here first."
How do things come to make sense to you? I was up late last night (and I'm never up late on school nights) thinking about how angry I was (am?). None of it made any sort of sense. I think perhaps because all the hurts we have ever had hide in our toes until something new happens (at which point they all rise like lightening bugs and illuminate our hardest memories) and obliterate the actual moment with something so much more. Why is it so easy to connect the worst of ourselves, and so difficult to find the thread of what's wonderful?
I don't know the answer there. But I woke up and went to work this morning. And there was just so much to do. There were so many things to teach today. And teaching makes me so happy, every other feeling somehow dissipates. My job is delicious. It touches me and toughens me and makes me step outside myself.
"don't feed me violins, just run with me through rows of speeding cars..."
I said that I wanted to be a different kind of girl. And I do...some of the time. But the truth is, I couldn't do what I do at school if it weren't for all the things I listed last night. Sometimes I forget about Clara Bow. And then other times I remember.
"you cut me out in little stars and place me in the sky...I lose my sense of time...you know me, how troubled I can be...but through your kaleidoscope I let go...cause you show me the world as it could be...it's beautiful"
I don't know how things come to make sense. But I know that most of my life is certain now in a way that it has never been. And I need to take a breath- because some people are still scared. As the should be. Of all the possibilities that lay in waiting.
How do things come to make sense to you? I was up late last night (and I'm never up late on school nights) thinking about how angry I was (am?). None of it made any sort of sense. I think perhaps because all the hurts we have ever had hide in our toes until something new happens (at which point they all rise like lightening bugs and illuminate our hardest memories) and obliterate the actual moment with something so much more. Why is it so easy to connect the worst of ourselves, and so difficult to find the thread of what's wonderful?
I don't know the answer there. But I woke up and went to work this morning. And there was just so much to do. There were so many things to teach today. And teaching makes me so happy, every other feeling somehow dissipates. My job is delicious. It touches me and toughens me and makes me step outside myself.
"don't feed me violins, just run with me through rows of speeding cars..."
I said that I wanted to be a different kind of girl. And I do...some of the time. But the truth is, I couldn't do what I do at school if it weren't for all the things I listed last night. Sometimes I forget about Clara Bow. And then other times I remember.
"you cut me out in little stars and place me in the sky...I lose my sense of time...you know me, how troubled I can be...but through your kaleidoscope I let go...cause you show me the world as it could be...it's beautiful"
I don't know how things come to make sense. But I know that most of my life is certain now in a way that it has never been. And I need to take a breath- because some people are still scared. As the should be. Of all the possibilities that lay in waiting.