Oh my, what a week and it's only Wednesday! This weekend holds much promise. Friday, I hope to meet this amazing artist as it's his closing. Saturday and Sunday, allll music alll day long, both days! Can't wait.
Been feeling a little...funny. Not sick, but something else. Something that makes me nervous. Only time and a doctors visit will tell or at least a visit to the drug store. I'm trying not to think about it - maybe it's just stress. lol...
September 5th, written on a napkin, hospital cafeteria:
I sit near a window that looks out onto a courtyard full of rain sodden plants. Leaves bowed, droplets run like liquid diamonds. It's graphite, not coal, that turns to diamonds, I think absently.
I've been engrossed in a series of books for the past few days - they've been all consuming. Tales of a dystopian America. And I wonder why I'm always so taken with such novels. The ones that remind me of 451.
Is it because it's where I see our society heading? Am I so cynical? My personality is always at odds, how does one be so generally happy and good natured, yet expect nothing but the worst from society, from people - all while pushing myself and others to to contribute to all that IS actually good. It makes little sense. But then, who said it had to?
Consumed, like dry leaves in a fire, these novels engulf me. They're hideous, murderous things. Telling of oppression and desperation and consumption. And I cannot stop, nor do I want to.
The coffee, for all my trepidation as I watched it pour into my disposable cup, isn't bad. Oddly, I'm calm. Not overly worried about her lying in surgery. Not clawing at the walls to get out. No stomach churning knots of nervousness and concern. I'm convinced she will be ok. I have no choice but to believe this - the alternative is not acceptable.
The rain has stopped and a hospital employee walks with a toddler around the courtyard. The child scampers and laughs, ducking behind potted plants, easily three times her size. Her brown curls lift from her shoulders as she spins in a circle with increasing speed. Then, as if jolted by lightning, she stops abruptly. Now legs and head wobble drunkenly as she waits for the world to stop spinning, just as her body did. She laughs, uncontrollably, infectiously - her caretaker joins in. I can't actually hear their laughter but I feel it.
The joy she exudes it almost tangible. There's no malice in her, no hatred, no fear to stop her. She is light and love and happiness. She embodies all that is good and amazing in this world.
Maybe that's why. While I expect the worst from people, I see the potential. I see the possibilities and I cling to that - hoping against all hope that they will live up to those expectations. That their laughter will be shared and contribute to the good of our world, that they'll do the right thing when called upon.
I'm no saint, but I will own up to my own shortcomings and always strive to do better. I will apologize when I am wrong, mistaken, or hurt someone. I will do what I can to learn from my past in order to do better in the future. My being dictates that I do no less, regardless of what has been done to me or those that I love. And I have hope. Hope for myself and hope for others and hope for our world.
