Mood: Compassionate .: Wet :.
Listening to: .: Vanessa Mae :.
Reading: .: The Autobiography of Malcolm X w. Alex Haley :.
Watching: .: The Olympics :.
Inquisition: What are you passionate about?
Aloha!
I am beat. Camp is completely wearing me out. I gave up my day off for another teacher who is very very sick so he could go to the hospital. We have much more kids than usual this time and it is grinding us slowly down.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately, so no doubt this journal will be as sporadic as my thoughts are.
I think I’ve lost most of my watchers in the 6 or so months that I have not submitted anything. Most of my work remains silent and commentless. I also think the new set up for DA kind of does not facilitate the discovery of lesser-known artists either. It is not that I seek popularity; I just like talking with people through comments.
The connection here at camp is terrible; so the dozens of deviations I have to submit remain on my hard drive. I’ve been able to catch up with commenting, though, and am currently involved in a rather deep debate with an agnostic.
I also got a chance to catch up on e-mail; I e-mailed Tamika, my mom, Coco and a bunch of others. I e-mailed Babchi (my grandmother on my Dad’s side) today. She apparently had some sort of accident (my mother told me about it). I really hope she’s doing ok. I wish I could call her.
I need to get home sometime, even for a couple hours so I can mail some books I sold. I listed a bunch hoping to be able to send them on my day off. Fortunately the two, which sold during the week, were postponed because of the payments not getting in, so I have a bit of leeway while the post offices are closed for the weekend, but I’m going to have to find some way to get out there Monday.
Dreams have been vivid lately. The first was of me visiting some sort of church. A priest who seemed to be an old friend accompanied me. He wore long dark robes, like those I’ve seen worn in South American Catholic churches and a small white collar. The church was a building made with Asian architecture, of dark grey rock and a deep red roof. Pine trees lay all around it, in between winding cobblestone paths made of the same dark grey rock. A brook 2 feet deep rushed next to the path, it’s turquoise current rushing far faster than any creek that size had a right to. It splashed and ripped around the curves and under a steeply arching bridge in the path. Mist flowered around everything. A pond lay under and around the building, though the building was not raised. The spring which was it source appeared to be under the building somewhere. Some others and me were led by attendants across a few stepping stones lit by curious lanterns on poles sticking out of the pond. We entered using a small door on the left side of the building and went through a hallway to the sanctuary. The pews were set up as low yellow walls. They had folding down seats, but on each side of the wall, so that the audience could turn around when action happened behind them on the circular stage that went around the entire room. The only other thing I remember is there being an old Catholic priest at the front.
The second dream was later that night; I was riding my motorcycle along a long dark country road. Berte Thompson, my old boss back at Messiah pulled up on a Harley, said hello, and drove off. I came up on a curvy road with low rust red hills as the sun was setting and decided to stop to take a picture. I ran up a hill, but a group of high school graduates showed who were wandering around came in my direction and milled around me, blocking my shot. They were very good-natured, but would not get out of the way. They were busy taking graduation pictures. One of them looked a little like Inya, but with a short crop of straightened hair. She ignored me.
I decided to move on. Just around the bend lay a fjord, but the water was so deep I knew I wouldn’t be able to get my motorcycle through it. I stopped and parked, it was getting very dark. The lake that was flowing into the fjord was perfectly still, and reflected a glorious but very dark sunset of purple and gold.
I have a few ideas what that dream might mean.
The last dream happened this morning, and was very short. I was back on campus, and all of a sudden Idiki saw me. She was wearing a turquoise skirt and wrap, and a white top. She barely looked at me, but yelled “Ben!” and rushed over and hugged me very tightly. She started to say something, but I woke up.
I’ve been thinking a lot about Tamika. I have no idea what to make of all my questions, but I know I miss her. I think I’ll leave it at that.
“I don’t know what the future holds, but I’m living for the moment. And I’m thankful for the (girl) that you are… you are…”
~India Arie – Beautiful Surprise