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Thursday, January 14, 2010 5:51:59 PM
i think most of us are over the edge.
it looks like a vague severance of our soul intentions. that doesn’t mean that we are not doing good work, or connecting with others, or experiencing enlightened moments of gratitude in each day. but on some larger scale, we are wandering in this life, growing layers over our hearts. pausing too long. watching our own cycles with helpless and diffident awe. or maybe each life we endure the removal of some outer skin and feel our own fragility and tenderness and that is why everything can feel amplified. devastating, like tremendous.
i always have the sense, though, that something has to come off. i think of all the times i say i don’t know and wonder what if i do. what if i did not let myself get away with so many tricks.
metamorphosis has always struck me as an important word. i think of mountains, not butterflies.
seventeen of my report cards were returned to me this afternoon with piles of post-it note corrections for my spanish comments. why couldn’t they have revised these in the system, i thought, it would have taken less time. i felt punished. embarrassed. confounded by spanish grammar i accept i will never understand without a commitment to living in the language for so many years. retirement, maybe. i felt myself glaring at the hispanic woman who turned the wrong way into the school parking lot as i was attempting to peal out. you are the reason my evening will drain me, i thought. and then i was guilty. and changed the subject in my mind; i wonder if anyone would notice if i wore jeans tomorrow? why do i always get stuck in this lane? will the doctor know i am clumsy with syringes?
he did. he told me to do it like they do on tv. i laughed and forgave his condescension, since he cut my bandage bills in half. he has a lot of power.
men look like their penises. i think of that every time i see him, because he is kind of a dick. i dare myself to call him by his first name, because i am sure he would hate that. he might be gay if his natural impulses were not so concealed in some overconfident pretense of manhood.
i think of this about lots of men. i know it is not their fault, but i think it anyway.
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