elephant tusks and miracle dust and indescribable things
the same warmth there ever was
is here again today and gone tomorrow
the least of things
wrestled with the sea
and endeavored to become what may be- unending
the bells that remind
ringing for better times
tears and memories running undone
resting in the solace of a shade.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Monday, March 16, 2009
Again, tonight, I do not feel like writing, but I've learned that times like these are the best opportunity for it. Today I worked on reorganizing files for the School of Education department. It's a somewhat large fruitless task, but it didn't seem too bothersome once I had started. The dust from the files irritated my sinuses, and I am still feeling the effects 7 hours later. I hope I'm not getting sick. It's the time of the year when being sick doesn't help; it's not raining outside, and it's not a lazy month. This weekend I will drive down to San Diego for a job fair. The archdiocese has set it up for its schools. It seems like a good first real shot at a job. Katyana only learned about it this weekend, but she decided to join. I am glad she will be with me. If I cannot find a job there, I will either have to find part-positions at community colleges in San Diego, or travel back up to Santa Cruz. It would be nice to head home, but I would rather be near Katyana. We've sustained our relationship from a distance for quite some time, but if it's left up to me I'd rather be near her.
Lately I've been having more bad dreams than good. I don't know if I am more stressed than usual, I do feel like I am handling my daily affairs more responsibly. But the dreams have been troublesome. A few days ago I dreamt that I was fleeing from the government. The dream proceeded like the post-apocalyptic (or in this case post- new world order) dreams I've had, characterized by the following: I am running from a force or entity that is much larger, more numerous and powerful than I am, there is a vague/uncertain threat of zombies, I am perhaps too keenly aware of the societal changes that are occurring as a result of the present crisis. The dreams are somewhat like Alice in Wonderland, as the experiences fluctuate periodically from eerily pleasurable to outright horrific.
What made this dream peculiar- and it's been long enough since I had that I don't remember much of anything else- was at one point, when I and the group I was fleeing the government with had driven into a town that looked very much like the Old City in Jerusalem. The sky was overcast gray, and our pursuer was just on our heels as we took a sharp turn onto a narrow street. The streets in Jerusalem are impossible narrow, and are paved with cobblestones large enough to make it difficult to walk on comfortable. When it rains, the oil makes the stones slick. This street was covered with Arabs lying prostrate, dying from some plague. We hardly slowed as we plowed into them, the ones still alive ahead struggled to pull the dead from our path. Their clothes were smeared from the oil and rain. My next memory of that dream was of riding a compact, red roller coaster in Japan with Takeshi.
I have been thinking about writing poetry again. It occured to me in the bathroom today that I might be a better poet than philosopher- it was a somewhat unhappy notion. However, I do take pride in my development in creative writing. From Mrs. Basilius to Mrs. Audino to the Sappho translation that the poet laureate appreciated to the professor who taught my steinbeck class, to norm partridge's tutelage. I can happily reflect on those experiences, rough as they sometimes were.
Earlier today in the bathroom- it was a productive day there for some reason- i read a passage by blaise pascal. It was about how we so rarely look upon the present, but are constantly engaging ourselves with the future or the past, either to prolong the good or to speed along or lament the bad. The challenge to look more adequately at the present is difficult to deal with. Especially, because it cannot be honestly put off for later. I do take heart in the idea that my happiness is not something that should be looked for on some distant horizon after grad school papers are written or after i have got a job or a law school position or a house for my children. It almost seems like bad advice to turn my head away from my plans for the future, even if to reflect subjectively on the present, but I know it to be otherwise. It just seems true that we are meant to live in the present, despite the magnificence of our future and the depth of the past.
Lately I've been having more bad dreams than good. I don't know if I am more stressed than usual, I do feel like I am handling my daily affairs more responsibly. But the dreams have been troublesome. A few days ago I dreamt that I was fleeing from the government. The dream proceeded like the post-apocalyptic (or in this case post- new world order) dreams I've had, characterized by the following: I am running from a force or entity that is much larger, more numerous and powerful than I am, there is a vague/uncertain threat of zombies, I am perhaps too keenly aware of the societal changes that are occurring as a result of the present crisis. The dreams are somewhat like Alice in Wonderland, as the experiences fluctuate periodically from eerily pleasurable to outright horrific.
What made this dream peculiar- and it's been long enough since I had that I don't remember much of anything else- was at one point, when I and the group I was fleeing the government with had driven into a town that looked very much like the Old City in Jerusalem. The sky was overcast gray, and our pursuer was just on our heels as we took a sharp turn onto a narrow street. The streets in Jerusalem are impossible narrow, and are paved with cobblestones large enough to make it difficult to walk on comfortable. When it rains, the oil makes the stones slick. This street was covered with Arabs lying prostrate, dying from some plague. We hardly slowed as we plowed into them, the ones still alive ahead struggled to pull the dead from our path. Their clothes were smeared from the oil and rain. My next memory of that dream was of riding a compact, red roller coaster in Japan with Takeshi.
I have been thinking about writing poetry again. It occured to me in the bathroom today that I might be a better poet than philosopher- it was a somewhat unhappy notion. However, I do take pride in my development in creative writing. From Mrs. Basilius to Mrs. Audino to the Sappho translation that the poet laureate appreciated to the professor who taught my steinbeck class, to norm partridge's tutelage. I can happily reflect on those experiences, rough as they sometimes were.
Earlier today in the bathroom- it was a productive day there for some reason- i read a passage by blaise pascal. It was about how we so rarely look upon the present, but are constantly engaging ourselves with the future or the past, either to prolong the good or to speed along or lament the bad. The challenge to look more adequately at the present is difficult to deal with. Especially, because it cannot be honestly put off for later. I do take heart in the idea that my happiness is not something that should be looked for on some distant horizon after grad school papers are written or after i have got a job or a law school position or a house for my children. It almost seems like bad advice to turn my head away from my plans for the future, even if to reflect subjectively on the present, but I know it to be otherwise. It just seems true that we are meant to live in the present, despite the magnificence of our future and the depth of the past.
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