midnight

Remember all those years they told us we could do anything as long as we believed and tried our hardest? Remember the day you found out it was a lie? I was much younger, then, and already covered with the dust of travel, unconsciously resolving to be as “wise as serpents and innocent as doves.” The serpent learned nothing comes easy and hard work earns but a dime; an uncorked heart gets poured down the drain; speaking is hushed and dreaming aloud will be silenced. The dove learned to love, accepting its coupling with pain. Still I will dance circles alone in my room these nostalgic nights, when all I can do is wait for the beautifully despondent song of the train delivered by the midnight breeze.

a time for mourning

I despise sitting here helpless as one of my old homes is devastated by earthquakes and tsunamis. Here the slight warmth of early spring and sunny blue skies decorate the day, a thousand worlds away from ripped concrete highways and crumbling walls that now adorn my last home, Mito Japan. Why must I feel something near guilt as people say "I'm so glad you're here and not there"? I want to be there right now, very much so, but even if I was there, what could I do? I will do all I can do, here, now; I will share in the mourning, and I will pray. And I ask you to pray too if you will, particularly for all my babies (my students; I had 700+).

Giddy

I feel compelled to throw on a flouncy skirt and dance around my apartment with the music turned up, for I have just discovered Owl City is starting off his world tour in Nashville this summer! I still have no job and no money and thus no way (yet) to actually get to the concert, but the fact that the possibility exists makes me feel like a kid on Christmas eve. I'll be 26 years old by summer, but the child in me will never die.