time, that is. there just isn't enough of it. rushing through the week, trying to keep my eyes open, beating back the jungle that is our yard and garden, doing laundry at five a.m. but, then..... i think about my students. many of them go to work in mid afternoon, work until two or three in the morning, come home to sleep for three or four hours, then get up and come do four hours of class every day. lather, rinse, repeat. over and over again. it's only the third week of school and some of them are beginning to look like they're only staying awake by force of will. gap taek kim is one i'm worrying about, he's not a kid like many of the others. it can be done when you're 20, but it's a different story at 50, which he is. he fell out over the weekend, left work with a headache that lasted until monday evening. yet he's the only one who handed in a perfect homework paper yesterday. i need to let him know homework doesn't have to be perfect. i'd really rather have him sleep than spend hours on homework.
so, i'm tired, but i ain't seen nothin yet, these folks are tired. i may just go to bed pretty soon, indulge in a full night's sleep. spent the evening (lovely lovely evening....the light has changed, and is now that clear-edged september light that throws long shadows and gives us all the souls of painters) in the yard, mostly mowing.....i've got to develop a zen of mowing, stop considering it to be a major waste of time.....and watering, finally picking some tomatoes. a real treat, even mowing. cool clear air, slanted evening sunshine in my eyes, clean smells of grass and herbs and earth.
well, enough. we say we do this (journaling) for ourselves, some of us. but i wonder. yes, i do. is anyone out there reading this? or am i indeed writing for myself? it's always a question about journals, diaries, for me. having kept a written one sporadically for years. aware that other eyes might eventually read it. hard to be entirely guileless and candid. writing for the invisible eye, yes, the imaginary friend.
2 comments:
I love the "clear-edged september light that throws long shadows and gives us all the souls of painters." That is YOUR perfect homework. I've been reading your entries this afternoon and night. It's now 12:16 a.m. I took a sugar-induced nap that lasted all evening. So now, I'm up and running. Your description of releasing the owl was magical. Didn't you write a poem about it? If not, you should. (This 500-char. limit sucks!)
Part 2:
I've been listening to a cassette of Bird by Bird that a copyright-thieving friend made for me. I read the book, you know, carefully, I thought. But I heard things on the tape that I don't remember ever ever reading. It's been a healing exp
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