Sinister: my longest post yet: missing children and the good lord below

[Bron]

dear sinister

my day so far has gone from normal to different 
events and perhaps all these events are truly 
mundane but for some beautiful reason my mind 
has likened to the habit of turning common 
events into romantic idealisms and destperate 
cries for help muffled in pure desire to survive 
in a shallow world of hello's and good-bye's.

i woke up to the anticipated beeping of my alarm 
across the room, walked over to it and as i 
clicked the "off" switch i heard my lips 
whisper, "goddamn".  i remembered as soon as i 
heard myself utter this word that i had just 
been to the candle-light service at church not 
even 12 hours before that.  monday started and i 
was already a sinner...all at quarter to 7 in 
the morning.  i showered in half-conciousness 
and threw on some clothes, my backpack, and 
jammed my headphones into my ears.  as i started 
out on my 15-minute stroll to my 8 a.m. class, 
beth orton wailed something about how my eyes 
were cinnamon...it was just then that i opened 
my eyes for the first time and saw the gray sky 
lift all the green from the lawns on campus up 
in laud and honor.  the sun wasn't shining at 
all, but the earth seemed to be aware of all the 
warmth that lied beneath it.

i arrived at class on time, but the professor 
never showed.  i felt like a third-grader again, 
as if it were a friday and it was my birthday 
and the clock had just struck 2:50 in the 
afternoon.  when i realized the professor wasn't 
coming, i found it ironic how much more awake i 
became.

my next class started an hour and a half later.  
i was to give a presentation with my group on 
computers and their history.  if you're looking 
for a subject to present that sounds like it 
could be interesting but when you get down to it 
is one of the most mundane to hear about, talk 
about computers and their development.  my focus 
was the 1960's and 1970's.  the girl before me, 
speaking from 1945-1959, was simply dragging 
herself through her part of the presentation and 
as the class was trying to decide whether or not 
to even try to give a damn, i heard thoughts run 
back and forth in my head---like restless rowdy 
children---all of them laughing and 
screaming, "1959!  quick!  hurry!  aw man, 
you're still talking about 1946!  c'mon 1959!"  
and when she finally said, "then in 1959...", 
all the thoughts of my mischievous id yelled in 
unison, "Thank God for 1959!"  and i lost it.  i 
just burst out in laughter.  loud and 
uncontrolled laughter.  it took me a whole 
minute to apologize up and down and compose 
myself.  i was next to present afterall.  the 
laughter isn't completely my fault.  it's who i 
am.  when i was 7 years old i used to be sent 
out in the hallway at school for laughing in 
class---untamed laughter that came from nowhere--
-nothing was funny---but the punishment seemed 
even funnier.  picture yourself walking down a 
long hallway of an elementary school in the 
mountains of north carolina---none of this inner-
city shit---and at the end of the hall is this 
little girl sitting outside a closed doorway, 
laughing nonstop for 10 minutes.  ...yeah...it's 
just who i am.

so after my presentation in class i went to the 
union for a jalapeno cheese bagel and a cup of 
rasberry yogurt.  i returned to my apartment and 
sat at my desk to begin brainstorming for my 
china research paper due this thursday.  you 
don't have to be a genius to bullshit, but i've 
found that even this genius has procrastinated 
too long to reap what could have been some 
exceptional fruit.  i think it's just another 
one of those lessons that i need to ponder and 
realize is a lesson to learn from before i find 
that i've become an irresponsible adult---or 
before i find that i've become an adult period.  
(is this still adolescence?  am i still in the 
same category as a 12 year old even at age 21?)  
maybe.  well, no.  aw fuck if i know.  
proceeding...

i called laura up and asked how her trip to 
boston went this weekend, how things went with 
the boy in boston.  the conversation made me 
sleepy, at one point i even closed my eyes.  she 
was sick with a stomach ache the whole time.  
her delirium was still at high tide and her 
voice traversed through the curly phone cord 
like a slowly restricting boa constrictor around 
my neck.  my breathing slowed and her creeping 
voice lulled into a lullabye.  i tried to 
respond as much as i could to reassure her i was 
still listening.  she was telling me of rain and 
messes and naps and more messes and more rain.  
when she finished, i told her to have a good 
day.  we hung up and i laid on my simple bed for 
a 20-minute cat-nap of dreams of sunnier days 
and all the vines my heart will swing from when 
my friend comes and visits me next week on his 
way to montana.

not too much longer thereafter, i went to work, 
where i'm at now actually, and to my surprise i 
was sent to wash dishes.  i went from 
professor's student aide to dishwasher.  it was 
a switch i suppose.  there had been a luncheon 
and somebody forgot the fact that paper plates 
are available at the local grocery store.  oh 
well.  we saved a tree...i think.  after the 
dishes were washed i was allowed to go back to 
the usual---the dreaded---work i'm usually 
assigned.  i made about a million copies with 
colored paper.  the secretaries in the next room 
were speaking in low voices of aggravation and 
gossip about the higher-ups.  they despised my 
presence just as they would have anybody's at 
the time but hey i was just doin my job, 
ladies.  usually the copier machine is the Bitch 
of the Year---as i'm sure if any of you have 
ever done office work you know this is always 
the case.  but this time around, i knew i had a 
million copies to make and knew that if anything 
fucked up i'd have to ask for assistance from 
the jealousy-ridden secretaries in the next 
room.  so i took a deep breath in and exhaled 
quietly from partially separated lips.  i put 
both hands on the machine and practiced zazen.  
over and over i repeated the thought, "be one 
with the machine..."  i made sure that the 
machine took after me though, and that i did not 
blend into its qualities.  the work was done 
beautifully and once again, zen saved the day.

peace and love
---your mountain mama sweetheart  X




"The differences between what you hope 
for and what you end up receiving are 
part of what makes the outside, the 
hoped for, worthwhile...and beautiful."
---the Lovely Lou
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