Sometimes you need those soft reminders to remind you what the good times really did feel like. I sit here writing report cards, puking, and packing all by my lonesome. I haven’t quite figured out why chaos seems to make my life become more solid but for some reason – everything gets done that way…. Well, part way, at least.

 I have about three weeks left here and one week left in my orgasmic bed. My free hired help is moving me out about five days early so I’m literally going to be camping in my hovel of an apartment while I clean and figure out what else I can possibly get rid of. It’s sick to admit how many books I have. I have done better than I could have expected on the clothes front, but I have only tossed about twenty books – and none of my “textbooks” which is odd since I would have bet I would have tossed at least ten of them. I guess, my weaken stomach and my rational mind are not quite in cahoots yet. Well, I’m sure that might change when I start packing the books down the stairs…. At least the boxes are smaller this time J

 I wish I would write about some lurid tale or at least jump up and down with the excitement. I have been seriously sick since I hit post on my last entry. I still can’t manage solid food and if I reported how many tins of ginger ale had been consumed between then and now – my teeth might ache. Plain water is barely sitting still. Ugh. I suppose no one likes to be sick, but when laying there in the dark one often has interesting thoughts about the world – life – and the possibility of something else.

 I read something recently that eased a feeling I had experienced from before… but then, just a moment ago, I ran across something as I was actively procrastinating that made me want to pick up the phone. I wanted to phone more than I ever had. One line with one specific word embedded into its core, made me think I had been wrong… that I had played the cards wrong – that I treated a flush as if it were a run; but it wasn’t and in the end I wasn’t. I guess that’s what the sound of silence can do to a person (the song not actual silence, since I never hear that in the city.) It’s weird how in one moment, your mind allows you remember how deep a friendship can run and how shallow the lines of love trace upon the sand.

 The heart is an odd thing. It is meant to sustain your life by pumping blood to and from various parts of your body; it’s like the recycle-depot deluxe complete with an efficient outtake and an intake mechanism; however, it doesn’t just do that. As a result to its actions, it feels opposite inactions… and it takes a hit if you take a hit of that you are not meant to touch. Some critics will tell you that it can never break, but it is indeed a muscle – so it can, and I promise you it will hurt like hell.

 I am in the “I <heart> you” field with other saps; however, although I use the term <heart> I use it loosely. I don’t actually associate it with the organ that sustains my life… I wrote on a wall chart the other day when we were creating questions we would like to answer about the heart. My students are at the age that they could separate their actual heart the organ from the <heart> we often use to express our feelings… and then one little gapher put up their hand to ask: “why do we have feelings? Why does my heart hurt when I think of sad things?”

 I know that we (as humans) are not the only mammals that are able to feel specific emotions or to express feelings of varying extremes as direction actions to changes or possible occurrences… however, I tried to put myself in their position and what I might be able to handle. My class has already set me straight about the tooth fairy (which shattered my childhood memories) and have found comfort in the fact that I my age I still have one favorite stuffed toy from my childhood that I will never separate myself from. But what can you tell a child other than that they are lucky to have these feelings and the ability to / learn how to describe them?

 Without feelings/ emotions, where would we all be? Honestly. The human race couldn’t exist. Plain and simple, I’ll stick to my ignorance; but without it – like the organ that keeps the blood flowing through our body, we would be no better off than an amoeba.

 And just when you think the flu medication has gotten to the best of my rambling, I discover an old CD can be dusted off… and thrown into the stereo. Once upon a time, I jokingly wrote a warning on the CD… and now I know why, it has a little bit of all my closet favorites. Including those I’ve shared with special people and those that I’ve sung without anyone else present. I love it. It’s just what I needed to hit the road to recovery and to understand that although it is highly unlikely I will be “falling in love from the first kiss” today, or turn to hear him say “hold my hand,” or finding the time or the energy to run through the “wildflowers” or to enjoy a little “strawberry wine” while wearing my new “tango shoes”… we all have a little inner diva… or lioness, as I’m told.

 <He>"drags me to the shore and says 'maybe you don't love me, or maybe you'll learn to love me even more'..." I have to move my energies onto something else that will make my <heart> feel better (since finished work = later reward) Ah, to be special.