Tuesday, March 06, 2007
spring.
It was sunny today, with a perfumed breeze blowing through everything. I needed that. I needed to know that it would be spring soon. Spring means that what was dead will live again; it means that rain has a purpose; it means that there is an end to everything, even the longest winter.
My head has been fuzzy and unclear lately. It seems that the only glimpses of clarity I find are in writing, and I've been writing to get away from myself lately. I write sometimes to take the sting out of a humiliation, to come down from an ecstatic high, to come up from a desperate low, and to level myself out. To think, to get myself to analyze events and people and what-the-heck-I-should-do. And I get away from myself in choir, when we're working hard, and all I have to think about is how this line is shaped, what the words are, and how to blend and stay in key.
Pain is no good. It brings me right back to myself. Everything does in the end. Even days like today, beautiful hinting-of-spring days. In spite of the sun, I still felt gray and a little numb. It helped, though. Even a little bit helps.
My head has been fuzzy and unclear lately. It seems that the only glimpses of clarity I find are in writing, and I've been writing to get away from myself lately. I write sometimes to take the sting out of a humiliation, to come down from an ecstatic high, to come up from a desperate low, and to level myself out. To think, to get myself to analyze events and people and what-the-heck-I-should-do. And I get away from myself in choir, when we're working hard, and all I have to think about is how this line is shaped, what the words are, and how to blend and stay in key.
Pain is no good. It brings me right back to myself. Everything does in the end. Even days like today, beautiful hinting-of-spring days. In spite of the sun, I still felt gray and a little numb. It helped, though. Even a little bit helps.
