splatter

my foot has been pressing hard against the accelerator.
gaining momentum
racingblurringstumbletopple correction
speedingspeeding hope i don't die.
or do i care about that?

as badly as i want to slow down--as much as i want to take my foot off the gas, i just can't. there isn't time. there's only responsibility. and obligation. and love and laughter and must do's.
dizzy with exhaustion
sometimes happy
sometimes angry
completely spent
and i feel so selfish because i feel like i can barely keep on doing anything. for anyone.
and i hate myself for it. and i hate everything because i just want to get some rest.
why can't i just have 2 full days where no one asks anything of me? and i can just sit in the sun and sip some tea and read a book?

it's been like this since the beginning of March.
the craziest, busiest job. that i love. then my brother came to visit right at the cusp of midterms. he left right when my finals prep began. right away i was slammed with a grueling month of end-of-semester tasks that spilled into an ever-growing pile. i was finally done on a Friday.

but summer school began the following Monday. and then came another fast paced month of 10 hour days, 70 quizzes to daily grade, lessons to plan, feedback to give, students and administration to please--all while mentally preparing for a month-long guest and her friend to stay with me in my apartment.
[i am always excited to spend time with loved ones, but, my apartment had been my only sanctuary for peace. where i could shut everything and everybody OUT. and i didn't have to emotionally cater or move or breathe or listen or speak.]

i thought i had a week to rest before my friend arrived. the finish line was in sight. but on the second to last day of summer school, i came home, hungry and tired. i had with a heavy bag of finals to grade and a mountain of administrative task to complete.
but there was a monster in my apartment.
dark green tendrils soaked into the very bed i had been sleeping on. it rotted into all of my furniture and clothes and began to eat away at all the surfaces--the walls, the counters, into my refrigerator and coffee maker--every place my hands and feet touched were infected. infested.
from one corner to another to the next and all around--growing, creeping inward, sealing me into the center of the room, choking me and making my skin crawl with revulsion. billions of spores were tossed into the air, invisible, but stinking my nostrils and sinking into my bronchioles. while it crazy-monsooned outside.
there was no place to run. i couldn't even go outside for a breath of fresh air because it would be just another rain-soaked task to deal with.
i cried. in helpless frustration. but mostly weariness.
and then, i grit my teeth, turned on some music, and graded those damn finals. i used a black pen to pass 'em, a red one to fail 'em, used my bag as a pillow and fell asleep at 4am. my eyes popped open 3 hours later, i taught my last 2 classes, then rushed back and searched for an apartment. in the monsoon. 12 hours from the beginning of that day, i shakily selected an apartment, then went back home to pack so that i could move the next day.
again, i stayed up until 4am tossing out heavy loads of disintegrating furniture, my body smeared with sweat and mold and dirt and spiders while it rained on me.
8am, the mover came, and we moved the contents of that god-forsaken apartment into the next one. i cringed at the thought of all of the spores that were still embedded into the fibers of every last piece of cloth i owned.

which finally brings me to this week.

i've been a zombie as i've methodically moved. i've done 16 loads of laundry and unpacked and wiped down surfaces. the air's filled with toxic disinfectants while the skin of my hands have chapped--but i washed them, hung up clothing to dry on anything available and have continued on and on.
and on and on.
i couldn't let myself think too hard about the fact that my hope for rest was shrinking because time moves inexorably forward. and my minutes are limited. because i would have to cry.

and now, it's 1am, i have to be up in 7 hours, and i've got yet another hectic month in front of me.
i don't know what to feel.
am i allowed to feel?
yes. i feel tired.


and extremely confused.
all of these awful things have happened concurrently with some strange and incredible things. while my head throbs from weariness, i'm also feeling perplexed.
against all odds, i've gotten some perfectly good news about the fall, my health, and was suddenly stirred out of some terrible complacencies i've been locked into for a long time.

there's too much to explicated, but there are some horrible and good things flooding my life at precisely this time.
what the hell is going on? will i ever have a chance for peace? am i just not built to attain any?

is life just a mother fucker or is there something else happening that i can't understand?

Journal: 7.11.11

i'm losing time these days.
i don't know if it's age or depression or angst or busyness. but i'm beginning to forget things. things that seem like they should be important to me. or even the unimportant thing i went into my bedroom to get before i leave the house. shit. declining mental acuity is concerning.
so, is this it? have i already peaked and now steadily making my way downward into mediocrity... and then worse?

i'm also feeling like a turtle. not the Teenage Mutant Ninja kind, but the 300 pound overgrown kind that accidentally made my way up the sand dune instead of back down into the ocean. i'm blistering in the sun while nasty little kids are squealing with horror at the novelty of my being. they're poking me with sharp sticks and i'm retracted, sick of all of the noise and chaos, wondering if there is any hope of escape.

i'm feeling super angry with everything and everyone these days. damnit.
i'm good at pasting on a plastic smile, making jovial the setting i'm twirling my hair in, or saying something inappropriate for a snicker. only the nearest to me can sense something's wrong. but even they aren't privy to what's actually going on. inside.
sigh.

when will this pass? i don't know. i'm longing for that lasting happiness. the stuff that sticks.

Daleth

Saturday morning.
gloomy skies.
occasional voices murmur against concrete.
a hammer banging on a construction project is echoing.
it's sticky. humidity.

Daleth:
"my soul clings to the dust.
give me Life according to Your Word.
when i told of my ways, You answered me; teach me Your statutes.
make me understand the way of Your precepts, and i will meditate on Your wondrous works.
my soul melts for sorrow; strengthen me according to Your Word.
put false ways far from me and graciously teach me Your law.
i have chosen the way of faithfulness; i set Your rules before me.
i cling to Your testimonies, O Lord; let me not be put to shame!
i will run in the way of your commandments when you enlarge my heart."

this is not very lyrical, but it stopped me on the train this week. so i memorized it.
there's a lot about feeling like shit, which i can relate to of course.
but i'm getting stuck on the 'law/rules' part. there's something about those verses that sound so abrupt. plus, i'm not exactly sure which/what precepts are being referred to. anyway, for some reason, understanding this passage seems important to me.
i'm leaving this crazy metropolis for the day to spend some time talking to God. i absolutely know that i can do that anyplace, but i feel so rushed/tired/busy/cloudy while i'm here. i need to get into an environment away from my computer, books, work, phone, people--where it's just me and God. i have no option but to confront Him. or have Him confront me.

to be honest, i feel a little worried. not-so-much in anticipation that i might get struck by lightening/something--but i worry about feeling bored. doesn't that feel like a sacrilege?--God should be offended by such a statement, huh? but prayer can feel pretty damn boring sometimes.
today, i assign myself several hours to talk and think and wait. leave the clutter behind.