little girl in the meadow

It's getting close to crunch time--hell, it is crunch time. Only a few more weeks til my comprehensive exams. I'm studying Yeats today and before I even cracked the book (Collected Works, of course), I pictured a young girl standing in a meadow--all light blues, violets, and gold--staring up at the blue sky. Strangely, this girl's mouth is open, waiting--it seems--for the rain. I think this is an apt description of myself right now.

A Monday

There is a sort of manic feeling going on with me today. Manic isn't the right word though--it implies action--frenzied. For people who see me, they'll see someone who is quiet, composed, and reading. What I really feel is a lack of focus and lethargic.

I'm reading Doris Lessing's The Golden Notebook, which is quite good (I have to admit), though going into the 600 plus page novel, I dreaded it.

I'm not sure if I'm feeling trepidation at the upcoming comps or just exhaustion for the sheer amount of work I have done over the weekend--it seems like there is no rest. I need a break. Work seems rather daunting. And yet, I don't have meetings today--or rather, I'm finished with meetings for the day. I can't go home as I'm subbing for Rosenberg today and then I have to go to the Lab until 4.

It's cold, I'm uncomfortable, and I don't want to deal with people. Plus I'm sore from lifting 8 foot pieces of plywood yesterday.

See--I can' teven focus enough to find a way to end this post. . .

Guilt and Forgottenness

You know what I realized today: I am carrying around so much guilt. I generally don't think about it, which is why it always surprises me when I do.

Someone found me--from my past. I ignored his phone calls for over 3 years. He stopped calling about 2 years ago. He found me on myspace. When asked why I ignored him during the time when he needed a friend, I could only think to my own worries during that time. And the guilt swells. surprising. Guilt for ignoring him. For trying to write him out of my life. For not going to see friends when they try to reconnect with me. They all have children and families. That isn't my life. It was my choice. Guilt.

But--I'm going to Italy again this summer. Reconnecting with new friends. Enjoying the life of a single career-girl.

The guilt merges into the periphery--almost out of view. almost. within the reasonable out-of-boundedness to being forgotten. Of course, being forgotten is a state of being and as a state cannot be entirely forgotten. "to be" is the problem here. how then, to move to just forgottenness?