As I reviewed the names of the students who were slaughtered at Virginia Tech, I wondered what the names were of the people slaughtered in Iraq on that same day. And the ones yesterday. And today. I keep wondering if the situation in the Middle East would be more "real" if we knew who these people were? If we saw their smiling faces, their dashed hopes, up front and personal?
Or would it only to serve to sadden us, to bring us all to the brink of helplessness since our voices tend to be lost in the politics of it all?
***
I had that job interview and now I wait. I did okay, not stellar. Sometimes in the throes of nerves, I tend to say things I wish I didn't. Can I recall anything specific? Yes...and it only gets worse in my imagination with time. So I do better not thinking about it. I'll wait for the rejection letter. As I munch on foods that are bad for me.
***
Only April 25? Damn it, I can't wait for summer.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Sunday, April 08, 2007
Happy Easter!!
Happy Easter, everybody. Here at the Bliss household, we had a mini-Easter-egg hunt in the house because it's been raining. Later, we're going to host a lunch for D's sister and her husband. Nothing fancy. Lasagna from the local deli and a salad. I'm not sure we even have dessert.
The picture is from a few weeks ago - I attended a conference in San Diego and the family met me on my way home. We stopped in Carlsbad for a "dip in the sea." The kids played until their clothes were soaked. The two little ones wore clothes from my suitcase for the ride home. J sat at the edge of the sand, refusing to get his pants wet. Who could blame him? I ran behind the kids snapping away.
What's on our agenda? I've got an on-campus interview at the local university. Found out I have only one other competitor. When I first got the letter, advising me of the day-long interview, I was near tears with stress. Since then, I've let it go. I'm prepared, got a lecture ready to go, a portfolio put together, the suit's pressed, the only thing left is doing my best. Right? The terror has subsided because this is something we've been waiting for, but it's much out of my control. Either I'm a fit, or I'm not. Right? I know, to some, this is silly. They do interviews often, it's a routine. This has never been routine for me - it's always been an opportunity for Adriana Bliss, the child, to rake herself over the coals for everything that's wrong with her.
So here I am. Cannot wait for Wednesday night, after my evening class is over. So I can get on with my life.
The kids are doing well - J's vocal tics are under control at last. He still has a motor tic where he clicks his jaw, causing him real pain. But that seems to be on the mend - the times he does it is less, the ferocity is less. We're going to enroll him in our city's high school, come September. I'm hoping to work out a custom program where he can take two of his core classes at least, as independent study, or perhaps with a home teacher. He's done incredibly well this year - getting straight A's - earning A's on his exams. I hate to rock the boat by dumping back into the classrooms he's grown to hate.
April already? Tomorrow's my birthday. I'll be 43. Ouch.
I'm sorry I've let my blog go. Writing has become an exhausting task. Perhaps my energy is zapped by school, the children, keeping up the house, prepping for this interview. I'm not as free in my writing as I once was. The words don't flow like they used to. They are restrained, organized. To the point. I suppose that's good except the straightforward ideas never hit paper. Or a computer screen. They stay in my head, acting like a beach's waves. Thoughts of short stories and blog posts come and go, darkness finally arriving, so only the echo of creative thought is left as I fall asleep. The surf not seen by anyone. Maybe, maybe summer will bring new light.
I think of you. Often.
Happy Easter, my friends.
The picture is from a few weeks ago - I attended a conference in San Diego and the family met me on my way home. We stopped in Carlsbad for a "dip in the sea." The kids played until their clothes were soaked. The two little ones wore clothes from my suitcase for the ride home. J sat at the edge of the sand, refusing to get his pants wet. Who could blame him? I ran behind the kids snapping away.
What's on our agenda? I've got an on-campus interview at the local university. Found out I have only one other competitor. When I first got the letter, advising me of the day-long interview, I was near tears with stress. Since then, I've let it go. I'm prepared, got a lecture ready to go, a portfolio put together, the suit's pressed, the only thing left is doing my best. Right? The terror has subsided because this is something we've been waiting for, but it's much out of my control. Either I'm a fit, or I'm not. Right? I know, to some, this is silly. They do interviews often, it's a routine. This has never been routine for me - it's always been an opportunity for Adriana Bliss, the child, to rake herself over the coals for everything that's wrong with her.
So here I am. Cannot wait for Wednesday night, after my evening class is over. So I can get on with my life.
The kids are doing well - J's vocal tics are under control at last. He still has a motor tic where he clicks his jaw, causing him real pain. But that seems to be on the mend - the times he does it is less, the ferocity is less. We're going to enroll him in our city's high school, come September. I'm hoping to work out a custom program where he can take two of his core classes at least, as independent study, or perhaps with a home teacher. He's done incredibly well this year - getting straight A's - earning A's on his exams. I hate to rock the boat by dumping back into the classrooms he's grown to hate.
April already? Tomorrow's my birthday. I'll be 43. Ouch.
I'm sorry I've let my blog go. Writing has become an exhausting task. Perhaps my energy is zapped by school, the children, keeping up the house, prepping for this interview. I'm not as free in my writing as I once was. The words don't flow like they used to. They are restrained, organized. To the point. I suppose that's good except the straightforward ideas never hit paper. Or a computer screen. They stay in my head, acting like a beach's waves. Thoughts of short stories and blog posts come and go, darkness finally arriving, so only the echo of creative thought is left as I fall asleep. The surf not seen by anyone. Maybe, maybe summer will bring new light.
I think of you. Often.
Happy Easter, my friends.
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