gardening
I was hacking away at rock-like clumps of soil this morning when I decided it was about time to update my livejournal.
I'd been outdoors for about 40 minutes in the very pleasant weather, doing a very pleasant chore: making things prettier. Digging, loosening, tossing, chopping, spreading through sod and soil is very calming. It's a simple enough task that your mind can meander about dreams and deeds, but focussed enough that you get real work done and real dirt under your fingernails.
I was hard at the job of dirtying my fingernails when I began to wonder just how each member would take the email I'd just sent out earlier that morning.
"It truly pains me to do so, but I'm afraid its for the best; I'll be taking pretty intensive courses at Cornell next semester that I NEED to do well in. Not only that, but unfortunately, my large ego and my vision for VIIIs is preventing me from being able to do my best in the group, and it would be unfair to myself and the group for me to try and change things."
I chose the wording carefully, because I wanted to be honest, but I also didn't want to make anyone think there were any personal qualms. The truth of the matter is I joined VIIIs to be part of a traditional, semi-professional and performance-quality group, but it seems the group's sole aim is to master the traditional; and not just any set of traditional practices, but those of the past four years. I've got a nasty habit of wanting to change things that I think I could better, but I need to choose my battles, and I think I've fought all the fight there is for me in Henry's VIII.
Just as we uproot grass and weedsfor flowers to bloom, just as we uprooted Wells' single-sex history with the hope of betterment, I find myself appreciating the beauty of this year as I decapitate the blossom off the daffodil so it grows back larger next year.