I’m playing my iTunes on shuffle this afternoon, and a 45 minute recording of a government class last year at my old school just started playing—and dear god almighty I haven’t been this close to tears in a long time.
The five of us are laughing and joking our way through Hobbes’ Leviathon and yelling at each other about the state of nature and I can hear the rain beating down on the windows of that ramshackle little corner classroom up on the fourth floor and my teacher’s tea kettle on the bunsen burner he kept on the window sill is whistling and now I can hear him pouring us each a mug while laughingly calling me “an absolute dimwit for confusing Locke and Rousseau’s views on monarchy” and… holy shit take me back take me back take me back.
Mmmm… for today’s drive, I grabbed an old CD I found in my glove department from a road trip I took last summer up to the Georgia Appalachians. The playlist had some Andrew Bird, James Vincent McMorrow, Sigur Ros, Hem, Alexi Murdoch, and Van Morrison. Damn good stuff, in short.
Thank you so much for caring! Truly, that’s awfully kind and I appreciate it. It’s just been a mélange of various issues surfacing recently, I suppose. Basically: I’ve gotten to the point where I feel proud of how I’ve pulled myself up by my bootstraps, but I had no idea how crippling it would be to have so many people I adore resent me for these very decisions and accomplishments. I’m afraid it crushes me more than I care to admit.