Some days are like this: filled with a sense of vulnerability and gloom. A friend used to call them my “Eeyore moods.”
I have some idea why today. The pipe bombs. The unavoidable reality of having a white supremacist President with legions of ill informed but well armed followers. The way the media conspires to amplify the negative and repeat the lies, always at the expense of the Democrats.
It didn’t help that what I wrote in class today provoked almost nothing but comments about being confused — even though comments are supposed to be restricted to the positive (I get it. My style tends to the impressionistic — my heroes being Woolf, Kincaid, Faulkner and not Chandler or Hemingway. And there are folks in the class who don’t know any of the characters and others who have met them but don’t remember them. Plus, and this is a biggie, having revised earlier writings so intently for two seasons now, I have a real sense of how preliminary these class sketches are).
Still, last week I “got” something I can use pretty much word for word and I’d always prefer to blow people away.
And then there’s the way the two groups I’m in have formed external bonds that aren’t entirely exclusive but are noticeably less vibrant in my direction. Noticing how I need to update my availability.
Plus there is K’s travel schedule. I think he may end up having been gone for more than 25% of the time in 2018 — a lot of that weekends.
So. Keeping going with chicken soup (literal chicken soup), walks with Finn, postcards for Phil Bredesen of TN (he’s running for Corker’s seat) and a new utterly absorbing Netflix series, “The Bodyguard.” And quilting.
Oh. And then there’s taking pleasure in gifts that come in the mail. This sweet little pop up notebook, from Michelle. Thank you, Michelle.