Yet another rainy day. I still don't feel like a normal person. Time stretches in odd directions. Tonight I cleaned yet another room... this time the basement. Did three loads of laundry, but couldn't bring myself to wash the last blanket that Abe slept on. I know I have to move on, and slowly I am. But I feel a little bit like that rock in the tide, my edges rubbed smooth.
Today I spent some time reading the book I chose for College Writing I in the fall. And I realize that I have a daunting task in front of me. The book has its highlights and pitfalls. My job is to figure out the stuff that I like and then make it work. I enjoy this work, but my brain feels like it should be writing and painting at the same time. Summer classes start Monday. I'm not sure I'm up for it, but it has potential if I'm careful enough to be optimistic. I just hope it will be useful and not a waste of time. The class is supposed to a workshop for teaching creative writing. We'll see.
Now that I've had some time to reflect on this past year of teaching I've come to the conclusion that I really enjoy teaching freshmen English. To end up with a hodge-podge group of students with a myriad of majors... I enjoy the challenge of getting even the wary to enjoy writing, if even for a semester (or even a moment). It is an incredible high to witness the occasional excitement. There are many who don't like to teach this class. I am not one of them.
This morning I stopped at the Old School House and bought 2 beautiful pieces of paper. They will become acrylic and ink paintings that I'm working on for my show in the Minneapolis in August. Henna hands. My hands. And for awhile maybe it will be the last I paint of India. At least for awhile. Then to prepare for a show in December. While time has taken on a certain amount of non-meaning, I've also come to the realization that it (time) is moving forward with or without me. So I continue. With hopes that eventually the rest will come.