I dreamt of beauty. Everything was made of colored glass: trees, leaves, grass, and sky. When I took a step the glass beneath my feet would shatter and a low steady hummmmm would fill the air. As the sun rose, and rays of light glinted against the glass, the rays would split. The air was filled with color. 

a conversation

My friend instant messaged me the other day, “I’m really hungry. I’m really, really hungry. Is it ok if I eat my friend?” I sat back in my chair to consider this for awhile. The answer I came up with was, “Cannibalism is never ok.” “Oh,” she replied, “my friend is an apple. It wouldn’t be cannibalism.” Another pause: “Friends don’t eat friends.”

Infants

I am in my class for child/adult relations. The students are scattered about the room, evenly dispersed at each available table. Two, three, two three. The teacher is talking about infants. “If an infant does not create an emotional bond, they will end up with severe personality disorders.”

The Secret of Kell

Adventures of a Writing Center

I arrived at the writing center minutes before my shift started, headphones on, unaware of my surroundings. The Decemberists were blasting in my ears, gently tickling my eardrum and someone walked into the room. I glanced up, music still blasting. She talked; I could tell because her mouth was moving. I gave her a halfhearted smile, but she continued moving her mouth. I let out a sigh and pulled my earphones down. She was telling me something of no consequence. She had given me another appointment because she took lunch. Ya. Sure. Ok.

English second language student. Bob*. English second language student. The theme of the day is nutrition and obesity. Everyone always writes about obesity. I would like some creativity to lift my monochromatic spirit. Maybe a paper on why America is not in an obesity epidemic. Maybe a paper on the undeniable proof of the prehistoric existence of unicorns. That would be nice.

There are not many students in here today. “Wendy,” Bob says in a soft voice, “am I getting better at reading?” He asks me this often. ”Yes, Bob, you are getting much better. I like hearing you read.” “Good job Wendy. You do such a good job.” “No Bob, YOUR doing such a good job.” “I know. It makes me feel better to say it.”

It is cloudy. It is Friday. This combination means that most of our appointments won’t show up. Clouds send a biological message to students that says, “It’s going to storm soon. Just stay inside.” It keeps college students from getting lost in a storm.  This is a survival technique. Besides, all of their homework would get wet.

I had a strange combination of macaroni and cheese mixed with honey mustard for lunch. 

XD

Alice in Wonderland

It is absolutely impossible to fall out of love. That is why love is so dangerous. I’ve seen it tried. I’ve seen it fail. The heart is like a tunnel; once something shoves its way inside, it is impossible to squeeze back out again. The love of your life that left you? You still love them. Try and fight it.

Often the technique that is used is hatred. A person uses this dangerous weapon against the thing that is causing them pain. It’s dangerous. Hate is a weapon that strikes at anything. It has no way of knowing what the target is and what is not. Use that weapon in your own heart, and you will cut up the heart.

It is true that some people seem to recover from love quite easily. I think the secret is they weren't truly in love. Perhaps they just thought they were. We are constantly pressured into thinking that love is the most important thing in life. I won't say its true. I won't say it isn't true. I will say that because of this, a large game has been created in the fields of love, and it's dangerous and cruel.

I was driving down the road the other day and I saw death through a window. In the darkness there was a light. It allowed me to see inside the large open window of the ambulance as it drove silently along the freeway. We coasted together, going the same speed, while I watched the wires and the buttons and the movement that was fighting against death. The silence was unsettling.

Sunday some of my thoughts bent and twisted. Some of my opinions changed. It isn’t a big event. These things happen all the time every day. I doubt I will even remember the subtle shift in a year. I am reminded of the scene from Alice. She drinks the bottle and shrinks leaving the key on the table. She eats something and grows. Shrinks. Grows. shrinks. Now she’s been so many different sizes, she can’t tell who she is anymore.

The sun is shinning today and I am feeling peaceful.
Now it is lunch time. I want soup.

 curiouser and curiouser

kimya dawson

oh dear

the cardboard box I use as a side table is caving in...

A field of Flowers

Today it is sunny. The sunlight streams through the large windows of my work in strands through the dust filled air, and I sit, deciding my destiny. Sometimes it feels like things are changing but not really in any solid tactile way. It can be frustrating.  I am still writing, but it isn’t in a very solid or tactile way either; maybe that’s my problem. 

I am feeling lazy today. It’s holding me tightly in its arms and I feel like I’m breathing sickly sweet summer time air. I want to lie in a field of flowers and fall asleep with the sun on my eyelids. I want to hear a stream bubbling softly, telling me its historic secrets.

Things at work – due to my lack of gossiping tendency and the secrecy and private initiation that all tutors are supposed to have, I can’t tell you specifics but the water is leaking through the walls and the entire dam is going to break soon. I’m not entirely sure what is going to happen but I must say plainly that I don’t care. I am thinking about long silky ribbons of blues and oranges drifting elegantly through the air. Strange thought, but comforting.

There are a lot of babies in my family now. There is Ethan and Rose and Toma and Neko and another baby almost here. Can life repeat itself?  It does every day.  People think that we don’t live long enough in this life, but we can be no judges because we have known nothing else, but the world is old. The only thing older is the universe and God. What knowledge and foresight would I have if I was that old.

I am going to be 22 soon. Is that old? Really? I think I’m still a baby.

http://www.wildernessbooks.com/lee/lee/photo/field_of_flowers.jpg

Hair cut

I lift my brown limp locks without much gusto. The time has come for a haircut. But, what?
Help me decide