Sharp Edges and All

I've had this image sitting in my inbox for about a year. Other items get deleted or shuffled into various folders, but somehow I can't get myself to delete this one. Maybe it's because I love this little guy beyond words. I see this picture and I want to laugh and cry at the same time. Because he couldn't find what he was looking for. Yet that didn't stop him.

It's not ideal. It's not what I wanted. But it's home, and I'm going to make it work. Sharp edges and all.

That's what I imagine him thinking. It reminds me of one of my all-time favorite lines of poetry, shared to me many years ago by a dear friend:

I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself. A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough without ever having felt sorry for itself.

The hermit crab doesn't feel sorry for himself as he searches for his perfect home and comes up empty-handed (or empty-pinchered?). He has no concept of self-pity. He simply trucks forward and stuffs himself into the closest approximation of "home" he can find, then lives out his little life as if he has lost nothing.

Someday when I grow up, I want to be as resilient and gutsy and strong as him. Forget my other New Year's Resolutions. This is the one that matters:

I vow to be a hermit crab stuffed in a broken piece of bottle. 

On an unrelated note, this song came on Pandora in my classroom the other day.

I've heard it before, but this time it sort of paralyzed me. I get to school early--about an hour before school starts--and this is going to sound weird (and probably inappropriate), but there's a certain feeling of intimacy I get when I'm in my classroom alone. Maybe it's just because the room is so crowded and bustling and overwhelming throughout the day, so to sit there in the still hours of the morning and hear the hum of the heater and the faint rustling of the building...it just feels so tranquil, that calm before the storm. I keep my doors locked, and I listen to music while I prepare for the day. If it's a fast song I'll dance like no one's watching ('cause hey, no one is). But if it's a song like this one, I freeze, and I end up leaning back against a desk or staring at the ceiling, too moved to move.

I'm such an emotional sap, damn it.

*searches for glass-bottle-shell*

Wild Grapes

I have so much I want to share from the last few days, but just can't seem to find the time.  I'll try to come back on here tomorrow night and write a decent entry, but until then, I want to share a quick excerpt from Robert Frost's "Wild Grapes."  On Saturday night I went out with Becky and Alana, and Becky had saved this poem on her phone because she wanted to share it with me.  She said that the poem reminded her of me.  I felt so touched that a poem would make her think about me, but even more than that, I absolutely love this stanza that she shared. 

I had not taken the first step in knowledge;
I had not learned to let go with the hands,
As still I have not learned to with the heart,
And have no wish to with the heart--nor need,
That I can see. The mind--is not the heart.
I may yet live, as I know others live,
To wish in vain to let go with the mind--
Of cares, at night, to sleep; but nothing tells me
That I need learn to let go with the heart.

Okay, better entry to follow soon.  Or if not "better", at least more long-winded.

Played Again and Puppies

As I started to mention earlier, I'm officially on Thanksgiving break this week.  Normally this fact would have me in a state of euphoria, but I have such a huge stack of literary response essays to grade that it's hard to feel like I'm on break.  I graded the essays for my honor's class already, and theirs alone took me three days.  With two more classes to go, I can just see the grading stretching out in front of me for miles...and miles....

But still, it's great to be on break, even with the grading.  I slept in until 8:15 this morning and it felt so nice.  Today Trin and I enjoyed our testosterone-free day, and that was really cool.  We watched Julie and Julia.  I've heard good things about the movie, but I personally thought it dragged out a little too long.  Plus I don't care for how it ended, but I guess that's the crux of true stories.  The one thing I could completely connect with though was the main character's desire to be a writer.  I actually got tears in my eyes when she received all of those messages on her machine from editors and publishers who were interested in publishing her work.  It must be an amazing moment...that precise minute in life where suddenly everything you have ever dreamed of comes true.

Speaking of writing, I deleted this poem from my blog last week (I think), but now I'm putting it back.  I don't care if it makes me sound like I'm moody or overly-dramatic.  This time it's staying.  Note to Self:  Quit caring what you "sound like" when you write.

Played
You painted the possibility
Yet I never told
You put it on the table
Impassioned and bold
You said you’d bear the burden
I refused to fold
Despite your calculated words
that spun a fool’s gold

Now, you run away,
covering your face
And strand me here,
burning in our disgrace
How simple you are, to
think you can erase
The rips and stains
you wreak upon lace

So cloak yourself in shame,
and leave me to dwell
In this empty place where
you played me so well
‘Cus even amidst your
cowardly-lade hell
I protect you, and will
never ever tell.

Have I mentioned lately how inundated my house is with puppies?  There are puppies all over.  Everywhere I walk, I'm followed by a trail of puppies, chewing my toes.  Or I'm tripping over puppies.  Or I'm saving them from whatever little contraptions they've gotten stuck in.  And ever since we switched them to puppy chow (about three days ago), they're plopping little land mines on the floor like every fifteen minutes.  Thank goodness we no longer have carpet!  Since we've lost both Calzaghe and Lily (damn animal control), we decided we're going to keep one of the puppies.  His name is Yang.  He's adorable...I'll post a picture of him soon.

Oh, I forgot to mention that with the money raised from our Top Turkey fundraiser, my club was able to provide Thanksgiving Day feasts to 22 local families!  Everything including the turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, veggies, sweet potatoes, and ingredients for pumpkin pie.  SO worth all of the work!

Desert

Crusty scales harden her bruised,
Corroding flesh
Callous upon callous
Repulsive, yet protective, Earth’s ancient cocoon
Crumbling away, piece by piece
Anguishing with eternal thirst

Somewhere in her core
In an inaccessible place
She dreams of waves
Lapping softly against her jagged finger tips
Teasing her gently
Tickling her impenetrable skin
As futile as a dandelion’s delicate dance
Upon an oily slab of rock
The soft, sensuous scent of salt
Cool, smooth froth spilling over her
The soothing whisper of an estranged friend

But she knows…she knows
It’s just a foolish dream
The wounded waves will never come
The throbbing thirst her only real companion
And in this knowing
She finds strength
To caress her own scars
To gather up her pieces
And make something whole
So when the winds come
It will not matter. She will be hard.
She will be numb.