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things are happening. which is odd, because things never happen to me. nevertheless.
my first academic encounter in more than seven years happened upon me last night. my brain is still wobbling on its axis. i spent two hours today reading and taking notes on percy bysse shelley's essay "a defence of poetry". it made me want to reread edith wharton's "the house of mirth" now that i know the title reference. tomorrow i will tackle something by thomas carlyle.
last week i repotted all my plants but two. as predicted, i could not carry ben and jerry back up the stairs, so they're living in a shady part of the backyard now, along with a plant i rescued from under a large pile of leaves and twigs. someone must have abandoned it when they moved. no one has died or even shrivelled a little so far, and ben and jerry have two new leaves and a flower still unfurling, so i pronounce the endeavour a success.
i talk to my plants, to encourage them, to tell them i love them and am proud of them, to ask them not to die when i make mistakes. no more chlorinated water and lots of yummy nutrients, i promise in whispers. the neighbours must think i'm strange, sitting outside whispering to my plants with dirt all over my pants and face. i have to love them somehow.
yesterday it rained and on my way home my shoes got soaked through. it made me feel safe, though, and happy, so i didn't mind.
i get so tired it makes me stupid.
my first academic encounter in more than seven years happened upon me last night. my brain is still wobbling on its axis. i spent two hours today reading and taking notes on percy bysse shelley's essay "a defence of poetry". it made me want to reread edith wharton's "the house of mirth" now that i know the title reference. tomorrow i will tackle something by thomas carlyle.
last week i repotted all my plants but two. as predicted, i could not carry ben and jerry back up the stairs, so they're living in a shady part of the backyard now, along with a plant i rescued from under a large pile of leaves and twigs. someone must have abandoned it when they moved. no one has died or even shrivelled a little so far, and ben and jerry have two new leaves and a flower still unfurling, so i pronounce the endeavour a success.
i talk to my plants, to encourage them, to tell them i love them and am proud of them, to ask them not to die when i make mistakes. no more chlorinated water and lots of yummy nutrients, i promise in whispers. the neighbours must think i'm strange, sitting outside whispering to my plants with dirt all over my pants and face. i have to love them somehow.
yesterday it rained and on my way home my shoes got soaked through. it made me feel safe, though, and happy, so i didn't mind.
i get so tired it makes me stupid.