Rooted, I used to think.

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Purgatory - Sunday, Feb. 10, 2019
Day Fifteen - Saturday, Feb. 09, 2019
Day Fourteen - Saturday, Feb. 09, 2019
Day Thirteen - Thursday, Feb. 07, 2019
Atonement - Thursday, Feb. 07, 2019

2002-04-11 @ 9:07 p.m.
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In 2 weeks I'm going to wish I could just sip tea and study for exams. This summer: 40 hours a week co-op in the lab, 10 hrs a week slaving on the farm to pay for rent, and a night course to keep my brain from atrophying.

But I'll be sleeping quietly and alone with the kittycat. In the yellow room.

Todd is completely not an option anymore. Two reasons. Major reason: he made a comment that was borderline racist. What is borderline racist? Well, I told him it was an ignorant viewpoint, and he immediately downplayed it by saying it only applied to the new immigrants that barely speak english. I still don't like it. And the way he said it: as if I'd be impressed of his blonde Aryan genes. Minor reason: we were waiting outside for the exam this morning. Rain was falling. It was a light, warm friendly rain. He complained.

See, I got up really early so that I could go jogging in the rain to clear my mind before the exam. Today was the first t-shirt run of the year. A lily-of-the-valley curled up out of the moss, its clean edges catching the rain and funneling the water to its roots. I looked beyond it to see a mass of hundreds of the thirsty leaves searching the sky. Beside them were fiddleheads. Way up tall now, towering over the other sprouting greens.

And past the swampy parts... a bright yellow flare... skunk cabbage in bloom. A massive tulip growing from an expanse of rich mud. Same with the lily-of-the-valley, I looked beyond that one bloom to see many more, each yellow spike surrounded with clean green leaves.

The rain streamed down my arms. Warm rain.

Pileated woodpecker. Its red crest gave away its hiding place up among the limbs. It woudn't move. I waited. Then left.

There is the micro: the fiddle head, the water dripping into the hearts of young plants.
There is the macro: trees so tall you can't see their tops, the green that overwhelms you if you squint your eyes to blur the colours into a painting.
It's a great place. Especially in the warm rain on the first t-shirt jog of the year.
And Todd complains about a little scattered shower.

(phone just rang: I had to TURN DOWN another job... curious. Fate is curious indeed.)

When I left the exam, Russ was leaving at the same time. I honestly didn't want to see him. We talked and walked out of the building together. Then I realized what he is about. He is just like me. He likes to talk with anyone normal just to keep options open. He smiles at me, makes me hope... because it makes him feel wanted and attractive.

Walking home I thought about the exam, the rain, and Russ. He walked the other way across the field, and I glanced to see him. As if I hoped to see white thought bubbles over his head... did he think about me for a couple minutes too? Damn, it's an obsession.

The 21 year-old mind - OK my 21 year-old mind - is rather fixated on a very select group of things: work/career, boys/love, food/sleep. All thoughts can be catergorized into those groups. Music goes in the love box, family too. Partying and alcohol is split between the boys and the food groups. Intellectual thought is part of the career grouping.. shaping the mind to attain future goals... Perhaps even further simplified to sympathetic and parasympathetic nerve reflexes...

Whoa too much studying.

Roots | Shoots