|DateCreated||2/15/2007 12:36:00 PM|
|PostedDate||2/15/2007 12:29:00 PM|
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"Staring up into the heavens, in this hell that binds your hands
Will you sacrifice your comfort, make your way in a foreign land
Wrestle with your darkness, Angels call your name, can you hear what they are saying, will you ever be the same?"
-- Isaac – Madonna, Confessions on a dancefloor
I've been thinking a lot lately about my accomplishments. What better subject to contemplate at the crux of a revolution. I'm looking forward to reposting my resume on the internet.
I was just putting on Emma's jacket, and she was flat out refusing to wear the one I had chosen. The why was obvious, it was her brothers, and a ski jacket. She thought it was ugly, and being a little girl, wants to look like a princess. When I pointed out to her that the point of wearing a jacket is to keep warm, not look pretty, she acquiesced, and we got the job done. That's quite an accomplishment if you consider how difficult it is to negotiate with a 6 year old girl... especially one who doesn't care how cold she gets.
I remember a moment from my childhood, where I was sent to school in a beautiful navy blue woolen jacket (very cozy, and warm), with a bright red sash, and red piping along the edges. I must have looked like an absolute doll, I was a very pretty little girl, no matter what I wore, but the jacket would have just put me right over the top.
And that is just what the jacket did.
Although the jacket was beautiful, we lived in a rural area, with many families subsisting off the gains of farming, or some other manual endeavor. Not many families had the opportunity to head into the city to earn a different living. I was lucky to have such a family, although I never felt accepted by others whose living situation was similar to mine.
I ended up being teased about the jacket, because it didn't look like everybody else's. After a half hour of torturous recess, and begging the lunch lady in vain to let me back into the school so I could take the damned thing off, I went off to sit in the sunshine, on the ground against the stone wall of the cemetery which adjoined our schoolyard. I remember feeling like I had a terribly high fever, and although I felt like crying, refused to, and passed out in the warm light.
I was awoken when the bus driver lady nearly ran me over bringing the children back for afternoon classes. Thank god she loved me (and I stuck out like a sore thumb) enough to honk, cause otherwise I was one dead little dolly.
Working on the resume... will post it later... THE KIDS ARE COMING TO VISIT FOR THE WEEKEND!!!