Category: …and everything else

I fear that my own obligations mean that Blogathon 2007 probably will not be something I participate in – if nothing else, I doubt I could garner pledges in the couple of days before Saturday. Uh, the two days before Saturday, that is – my sense of time has been off since Summer Camp.

Although, it occurs to me that I could participate this year, without raising money, just to have done it. I have to write a paper or two this weekend; perhaps I shall blog the paper as I write it – it would be an interesting way to both motivate myself to do a paper and to get feedback as I do it, eh?

Are any of the rest of you participating in the Blogathon? I didn’t see many academics listed…but I also didn’t look terribly closely. 😉

Tonight’s brilliant idea: blow off prepping for comps next summer, and all the other things I’ll have on my schedule, and race a 1 litre engine from England, across EurAsia, ending in Mongolia, with no preparation or modern tech like GPS and the like…

…it sounds so damned fun, it almost hurts.

I’m having one of those days where, although I woke up calm and collected, everything has broken into fragile shards around me as the day has gone on, and I know, I know that I’ll be in ragged pieces soon. I have so much to do, and no one who can help me with it. I had been planning on asking for a significant amount of help today, only to find out that the people I needed to ask the help of have opted to not be here.

Wonderful.

So I have to duct tape myself together, and make magic happen even though the only thing I feel is going to happen is me finally snapping apart at seams that shouldn’t be stressed, at this point. It’s so far beyond the Scotty principle that I don’t even know what to call it…

…although a friend wonders if people focus so often on my being a super-woman, of making magic and miracles, that they forget I’m human, I’m a novice, and I need both help, and support.

There is always a reason that magicians are adrift from the rest of their party – perhaps this is it.

Because I can’t, but Fizzgig can.

I left quietly. It’s not as though anyone could hear me, but I still slid the door slowly and silently, using my fingers to cushion the gap. The door that swung shut, I placed my palm on, flat, and moved with the motion of the closing door, waiting for alignment between door and jam and then locking with care. I used equal care in walking, in calling the elevator, in stepping down the stairs.

I missed the rain, today, three times making it outside in the breaks between storms. The scent was there, though, moist and rich and wet and a damp dirty smell rich with herbs and flowers, an almost heady perfume. I took my time walking home, lingering in the park, watching the sun paint the sky goodnight.

I thought about choices, and feeling stuck between feeling selfish and feeling desperately ungrounded. And how I can’t talk about most of what is on my mind, with anyone, because there is either no one who can hear, or no one who wants to hear. And just how much being competent can be a curse.

Mostly, though, I thought about wanting to go home. The overwhelming, aching desire to go home, and how horrible it is to feel like I don’t know where that is anymore.

I used to be loud, pale as milk and bold as a promise. But somewhere, I seem to have lost being as bold as a promise. Now, I’m just a silent ghost, seeing everything, rarely saying anything.

My statements these days come in movement, in noise. And I always leave quietly.