mysterious gift

i've been waiting for an hour for the children to leave so i can raid this lost lunch i found left in a plastic bag in my classroom.  The moment of glory is upon me.
The goods:
1. one bag of cheddar jalapeno cheetos
2. one bag of Sensible Portions Garden Veggie Chips (30% less fat!)
3. one peanut butter on jelly sandwich, cut down the middle, no skimping on filling, toasted wheat bread
4. one turkey sandwich, cut down the middle, slice american cheese, mayo on both pieces of bread, and some iceberg lettuce.
5.  Capri Sun- berry (respect the pouch)
6.  Skinny Cow Heavenly Crisp Milk Chocolate candy bar (110 calories)
7. Yoplait yogurt- boysenberry
8. napkin
9. spoon

a mysterious gift.
who was this lunchless child, and what kitchen will she run home to?
i am most impressed by the presence of iceberg lettuce.  who does that?  who bothers to slice up iceberg lettuce to put on a school lunch?
also, what the heck is the average portion of a female high schoolers lunch?
also, this has every appearance of health,  or at least strong efforts in that direction.  but is it?
is it really?

1. shared 2. devoured 3. eaten mostly.  and first, oddly enough  4.  eaten kind of  5. obviously 6. stashed 7. questionable, but i'll probably eat it later

hours

APRIL is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering	5
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.
Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee
With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade,
And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten,	10
And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.
Bin gar keine Russin, stamm’ aus Litauen, echt deutsch.
And when we were children, staying at the archduke’s,
My cousin’s, he took me out on a sled,
And I was frightened. He said, Marie,	15
Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.
In the mountains, there you feel free.
I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.                                            -T.S. Eliot

there is not time enough
to think and not think
to do and not do
and also
there is entirely too much time
to think and not think
to do and not do


an anchor; a compass; 


after the rereading
there is the rewriting
beginning with a long, quiet stare
at an empty page.


hours of empty

you can

"For what it's worth:  it's never too late or, in my case, too early to be whoever you want to be.  There's no time limit, stop whenever you want.  You can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing.  We can make the best or worst of it.  I hope you make the best of it.  And I hope you see things that startle you.  I hope you feel things you never felt before.  I hope you meet people with a different point of view.  I hope you live a life you're proud of.  If you find that you're not,  I hope you have the strength to start all over again."
-F. Scott Fitzgerald

crawl

long hours of solitude.
reality is starting to sink in.
the absence-
the stretch of long hours ahead
to fill / to leave empty-
to navigate on a minute by minute basis sometimes.


yesterday i hopped on the metro to LA
no desire to be social, but the need to be surrounded.
met up with a friend
at a bar i'd never been to
on a street i'd never been to
in a city that will probably always feel foreign to me.

the trip on the metro was important to me somehow-
it meant saying yes.
it meant continuing to live and experience.
it meant trying.

and that was that.
no grand epiphany
but a filling of hours.
a conscious decision to
live
deliberately.
to crawl out of solitude when it starts to become isolation.
a wallflower- but a new wall.

and tonight i return to solitude. quiet.
familiar walls.
no grand epiphany-
an absence-
missing-

trying to rebuild a heart
with long hours
and no guarantees

a canvas
blank & scary

& beautiful.

i have so many terrific friends (gratitude)
i miss my friend (sadness)

break

school retreat before spring break consisted of:
gratitude &

& "sheniqua, peace." from a very white risen jesus christ

followed by

&

outside of the convent.

happy spring break, world.
i intend to crawl into a little cave-
a space-
and return again like jc-
bright. shiny. new.

let's do this.

(UP:  A- on paper that I felt really unsure about.
 UP:  opportunity for some school loan forgiveness
 UP:  madre's birthday = success
 UP:  i feel loved and respected in this space
 UP:  solitude and hours and hours to mold and shape)