Inner Doodles

Tomorrow is the first day of school. It is the first day of the 2020-2021 school year. It is also the first day of Planned Online School. (Planned meaning that instead of a makeshift emergency couple of hours, we now have a purposefully planned out full day.) I feel like I'm waiting in line for a roller coaster. Except I hate roller coasters. I want to like them. I do. I've waited in several lines, psyching myself up for the ride. Every time I get to the front, I check out. I then wait dutifully by the pink-flowered bushes for my friends to have the time of their lives while I avoid the bees who so love the pink-flowered bushes.  The one ride I did manage to get on was the Jurassic Park River Adventure Ride at Universal, Florida. You couldn't see the drop while you waited in line. It was supposedly like the log flume. I knew there was a plunge at the end, but everyone insisted it wasn't that bad. So I waited in line. As I got closer, my heart pounded, but I made it into...

Needless to say, I got slightly derailed since my last post. I was about to give up writing this blog all together when someone thanked me for writing these today. So, here I am. Back in the saddle. But...how can I write about my goofy self when humanity continues to spiral downward into a withering hole of its own making? I have gone back and forth in my head daily about what I could possibly write on this page that would be appropriate. If I stay silent, I'm not doing my part as a white person. If I speak up, how can my words not sound preachy and white privileged and all wrong? Whatever I write, it will not be enough. It won't right the wrongs. It will sound wrong. It won't scratch the surface of making a difference. But it is a start. And it will be from my heart. Perhaps at the very least, it will spark a ripple in the right direction. My heart is still breaking. I still suck in air and fight back guttural sobs when I watch heartfelt videos or hear moving speec...

Dreams are getting stranger and stranger. The stress of social distancing, global deaths, and lack of jobs intertwines in bizarre ways. We are fine, but as an empath, I tend to let it all in to bleed out through my subconscious. ~ I was back at the school and we were slammed. Phone call after phone call to find the children who couldn't make it back to class. Were they at work with their mothers or at home without a ride? Did they have lunch? Did they need new clothing and is there enough in our bin to supply to those in need? I looked at my schedule and there was no way I would make it in time to my reading group. I was still manning the cafeteria. Putting out fires between stressed out coworkers and upset children whose oranges were moldy and who were being overcharged by kitchen staff.* I walked briskly up the winding staircase and found myself in a living room. It was poorly lit, bright blue carpet and there were piles of books and knickknacks in all corners of the house...

Between the onslaught of assignments and Zoom meetings that littered my calendar, I spent much of the day staring out the window. I noticed a woman had found a secluded spot in the woods. She sat on a raised manhole cover where trees met the gravel path above our glorious drainage swamp. It was both romantic and desperate. I found myself wondering what she was trying to escape or if she was just enjoying the scene. I watched as smoke meandered up from her fingers. She lifted the cigarette to her lips. Maybe she was a closet smoker. I decided I'd keep her identity a secret just in case. I never was a smoker, but she reminded me of a younger version of myself. I often sought out solitary spots to think and absorb and just be. I always found myself needing to escape one thing or another. Stress, people, life. It has been years since went for a solitary walk or sit. I haven't had a reason to escape. I haven't had the time. Does one need a reason to enjoy a favorite spot? Certai...