It dawned on me that the last time I saw the sun, I posted about it. So it hasn't been a horrendously long time, but it's been long enough. And then Thursday and Friday were devoted to paperwork and organizing. There were no students and the doors to the outside world remained closed. I begin to forget that light is not all fluorescent or incandescent. And there is a reason people like me need to take jobs teaching in faraway places rather than buried under files and filling in boxes on sheets of paper. Madness begins to set in.
Nerf Hoops helps a little.
I recall the violent compulsion to be away from the accounts managing job, and that the only days I enjoyed were those defined by some crisis that needed solving, the day-to-day holding no interest. Perhaps this is telling.
But when I begin staring at the impenetrable layers of gray in the sky, searching for some way through, I understand why it is often stated that hope is a dangerous thing to have.
And although the absence of the sun teaches me to appreciate its presence, the absence of other things, such as clear directions or particular voices, begins to teach me that they may be speaking more poignantly with silence. Their messages difficult to take, but necessary I suppose.
Even so, path tells me to continue speaking plainly, when possible, in all things, regardless of the obscurity that plainness might encounter:
Perhaps this is not the place for such plainness, however. And though I continue considering a return to SA, I find that there is an intensity there that causes me to lose my bearings almost immediately. I have not decided whether or not this is a positive thing. I am happy here, but it is not home. I need to see the ocean more; it--oddly enough--grounds me. And I am feeling nauseous from an ear infection.
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