Silly silly silly

Goodbye, April. Hello, May. I see you around the corner of this rainy month. Bring sunshine and better days and inspirational unexpectedness. Bring fresh starts and warm hearts and someone to liven up the day.

Rest easy, April. You did what you could. I am glad you are gone, and I am thankful for what you taught me. Thing is, you are a rough month from beginning to end, and I am glad to be done with you. It may sound harsh, it may sound cruel, but that's the way it bes sometimes, and that's all I got for you.

C'mon, May, warm up my cold heart and put a smile on my face. Teach me the secrets that you hold in your transitional realm. Take me on a ramble, challenge me a little, hold me a lot, and give me a feeling that isn't something I already got.

A tall order you think? It's all riding on you. May you have what no other month has, and that's my faith that you are the month to turn it all around. You can do it, I just know you can. And if you can't, then what's what? Another month you say?

Months I ain't got. Time I don't spare. May, you don't surprise me, you don't scare me none. You're just like all the other months, disappointing me before you're even here. Silly, May, with your three letter name, I guess it's on me again.

It's not the month or the year or the shirt I wear. Doing what I need to do happens every day of every year.

Republished

I wrote what follows during my last couple of months of grad school. It's.. well, it's amazing to be reminded by myself what I want for myself. Thanks, self.

What it is.

So I am in grad school, right? And one of those questions that keeps getting thrown around stems from the one that asks, "What does it mean?" only it is more like, "What does it not mean?" Because the one thing that I have learned is that there isn’t anything that is absolute This is the idea which ultimately reaches the point where meaning does not exist. It’s kind of the same as Plato’s, "I know that I know nothing" only it is on a bigger scale, the scale being everything that ever was only it never really was to begin with. Ya dig? It’s cool if you don’t.

Deep down, I think I am starting to realize that this is some archaic creation dreamed up by scholars who saw that there might be an end to knowledge and dreamed up this scheme as a way of creating job security. I can actually appreciate those hoodwinkers if that is the case. I swear, this is going somewhere.

See, I watched this movie tonight... Wait, don’t judge me yet, there will be a brief judgement session near the end, just stay with me for now and curb your desire to roll your eyes. If you have already rolled your eyes, fine, thanks for continuing to read...

So this movie was one that has been on my "I need to watch" list for about as long as any of them, but I decided to get it and put off work for 2 and a half hours longer. Here is the question I have.. I will reveal the movie later, just staving off that imminent judgement...

If we don’t have someone to tell our story, if we don’t tell our story, then were we ever really here at all? If we don’t share, if we don’t feel in the presence of others, then who are we when we aren’t?

Here is most of where those questions led me...

So I blog infrequently and at some point when I don’t have a pulse, these rambles will be one of the few remaining shadows of the time when I was around. I know, it sounds awful, but it’s just something for me to think as a member of the living. But here it is... What I put here is still not my story. There are a thousand things that I think and feel that at least nibble at what makes up my center. That is, provided, I even have a center. I never say these stories, I never write them, I never feel them in the presence of others. Is there something inside me that because it lacks the expression actually impedes me from ever existing in the world at all? Am I here in this moment or am I only what you think I am, thought I was, want me to be? I swear, I got all of this from a movie.

So I am in grad school, and reality is something that is built and rebuilt and often just an imagination run amuck. So I watch this movie and I realize that I am a memory of myself to anyone who has ever known me or ever will know me. What do I do with that?

I do this.

For every moment that I am alive, from this point until the next, I want to let others know that we are all in this together. Life, with its many layers both real and unreal, are only what they are for us and not me alone. Richness and color are one-sided and hollow without other eyes to give to me what we give to it, and I only want to know what you know so that I can know it, too.

I will not live in a valley. I will not live on a mountain. I will live in the place where your shadow touches mine and the sun touches us all. Seriously. That’s really what it is. Whatever it is.

The movie was Into the Wild. Commence with the judgement, you have been patient long enough.

Last day of classes

When I saw an old face and didn't run, I knew that I was getting over this. When I felt a blush I seldom ever get, I knew there was a difference in me. Yesterday gave me a new way to look at today and tomorrow and some days ahead of those.

Trying not to get caught up in things I cannot have, trying to learn from mistakes, and trying to settle the sounds I don't want to hear is what I do. Try, try, try, and now I know that I need to look for some success, too. I am so afraid of saying that I have done something well. I mean, I was taught that I am never free of some things, and somehow, I have translated that to mean that I am never able to achieve what I strive towards either. Can you make sense out of that?

An albatross is an albatross, even when it isn't a failure.

Sometimes my imagery is ridiculous

Like an early summer sea, the anxiety is ebbing. Slept a lot yesterday. Work today, work tomorrow, and then maybe something different. Distance is the best feeling, and I need some more. I halfway know what I mean.

People teach for one of two reasons: personal glory or world-changing. I know people who teach for both sides of the camp. The ones who teach for the first side, well, they suck. I wish those people would just realize that if you aren't in it for the others, then there really is no you. You can either teach to the faces that are there, or you can teach to the ocean that swells with empty applause for a goal you never reached.

My students said some amazing things yesterday. The gentle quietening of the screams has more to do with them than it has to do with the sleep I got. They talked and fought and listened and cared. I sat back and watched their faces, and I shut my eyes to the sea I never saw.

Screamscreamscream

Remember when little Jenny says her prayer in Forest Gump? She asks God to make her a bird, so she can fly "fa fa away." Well, my southern accent is real, and my prayer is the same. Some kind of fear or anxiety has taken over me. Nothing feels very good this morning. I don't know what is happening. I only hope that no one can tell how I feel. How can I act like everything is fine when I feel so not fine on the inside? I can't tell if I want to cry or scream or run or sleep. I need a few hours that I don't have. I just got to get myself together before anyone realizes that there is a scream in my head that no one can hear but me.

In my head

A million little thoughts are swimming in my head today, and none of them amount to much. The weather outside makes it difficult to think about more than rearranging my schedule so that sitting in the sun is all I have to do.

Planting some flowers this weekend. Just a few around a tree is all I am planning. Can't wait.

Creating memories of things that never happend and rewriting history with make believe scenarios. Is this something that all people do?

One thing to say

THIS IS NOT MY JOB!!!!

That's all I got.