Up one day, down the next. I imagine happiness and love. There's no reality to it, it's just day dreaming. Then reality arrives and it's ugly. Why dream, why hope. I should know better, going down lasts longer than the moment I dare to dream good. And somehow I slowly drag myself up again and remain in a safe, secure middle place void of human contact. Take care, expectations suffer greatly.
I saw the man who saved her and her child. It only took a moment. I am so wrong and out of tilt to expect. I am happy for her and her child. They are alive and are safe. There is hope for them.
Up and down, a chemical imbalance, it makes sense to find the balance, to avoid and kill the pain of the past, the good and bad of it all, simply cut it out of your life and move forward.
I watched 'The Social Network' last night for the third time in five months. To be 20 again, surrounded by inspiration. Inspired to live good, to love God and Jesus, trusting I will be taken care of and will lead a life worthy of the calling, but really, those aren't the tools one needs in the job market. At Harvard we invent our jobs we don't find them. Do I have to go back thirty years to recreate myself? The mind crusts with idleness and age. Wait, you have a job before you, you're being asked to produce a syllabus in four days meanwhile I dig out of the darkness.
Fifteen new teachers arrive this week. They have no idea what they're getting themselves into. A dozen present teachers expect to be elsewhere at the end of this year. I waffle but lean towards the exit door. It isn't the job and the school so much as it is this city.
I taped a photo of the Annapurna Himalayan Range next to my desk. There's no place I'd rather be and if I were 23 again would I have a better idea how to make it happen? Right now I'm all over the map. I look at Japan, I look at Ramallah, the rest of the Middle East. You're not looking for happiness, well because happiness and this profession don't exactly connect. If I am looking for happiness and a profession it'd be writing and photography and shit, is returning to school the only alternative at 51?
I don't know but wouldn't I be happier at this job if there was someone to love, the inspiration to do good, to be good, comes from someone else, right? Here's the problem with God. God isn't emotional. I can't touch, I can't hug, I can't kiss God. God is a mind-game and we are emotionally messed up creatures clawing out of the depths of despair. Even the worst off on this planet, if they have some kind of family, some kind of love to embrace, they endure. Pity the homeless man in Rochester, pray the refugee in Syria. Where is God in Syria? God has really messed this one up. This isn't our fault. Real mercy means intervening right bloody now. Almost 12,000 children dead? C'mon you #%@. How dare you call yourself anything but a delusion. Shame on you. Shame.
I saw the man who saved her and her child. It only took a moment. I am so wrong and out of tilt to expect. I am happy for her and her child. They are alive and are safe. There is hope for them.
Up and down, a chemical imbalance, it makes sense to find the balance, to avoid and kill the pain of the past, the good and bad of it all, simply cut it out of your life and move forward.
I watched 'The Social Network' last night for the third time in five months. To be 20 again, surrounded by inspiration. Inspired to live good, to love God and Jesus, trusting I will be taken care of and will lead a life worthy of the calling, but really, those aren't the tools one needs in the job market. At Harvard we invent our jobs we don't find them. Do I have to go back thirty years to recreate myself? The mind crusts with idleness and age. Wait, you have a job before you, you're being asked to produce a syllabus in four days meanwhile I dig out of the darkness.
Fifteen new teachers arrive this week. They have no idea what they're getting themselves into. A dozen present teachers expect to be elsewhere at the end of this year. I waffle but lean towards the exit door. It isn't the job and the school so much as it is this city.
I taped a photo of the Annapurna Himalayan Range next to my desk. There's no place I'd rather be and if I were 23 again would I have a better idea how to make it happen? Right now I'm all over the map. I look at Japan, I look at Ramallah, the rest of the Middle East. You're not looking for happiness, well because happiness and this profession don't exactly connect. If I am looking for happiness and a profession it'd be writing and photography and shit, is returning to school the only alternative at 51?
I don't know but wouldn't I be happier at this job if there was someone to love, the inspiration to do good, to be good, comes from someone else, right? Here's the problem with God. God isn't emotional. I can't touch, I can't hug, I can't kiss God. God is a mind-game and we are emotionally messed up creatures clawing out of the depths of despair. Even the worst off on this planet, if they have some kind of family, some kind of love to embrace, they endure. Pity the homeless man in Rochester, pray the refugee in Syria. Where is God in Syria? God has really messed this one up. This isn't our fault. Real mercy means intervening right bloody now. Almost 12,000 children dead? C'mon you #%@. How dare you call yourself anything but a delusion. Shame on you. Shame.
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