140906
14 September 2006
i am now the mother of an adult. betsy turns 21 today. it is shocking, in a way. i was so glad to be able to talk to her this morning. i was terrified i might have to say Happy B-day on a voicemail. she is always so busy. but i was walking to campus and so was she! i am *not* one of those people who walks along with my phone glued to my ear, but this morning it was great, as if i were walking along with her. i miss her very much. i haven’t seen her since May. it seems forever.
i should like to sit still all day, in the fresh air, and recall every detail of the day she was born. it was so amazing. she was born at home in austin, texas. in our attic apartment, no air-conditioning, a rainy saturday. it took all day. the midwives were incredible. i had a lavender bath and rescue remedy when needed. the students in the condo’s on one side of us slammed the windows shut, due to my noises. the wetbacks from the other side of us sat as sentinels at the edge of the driveway, until david came out later in the day to let them know it was a girl. then they shook his hand and smiled and went back to their yard. she had red fuzz on her head. we had paella and champagne after. i felt like a goddess and david played talking heads “little creatures”. i remember every detail.
maybe i should have some cake for dinner?
: : : : : : :
now i’m back and a little frustrated. i didn’t really *want* to go to class today. i wanted to sit here and write. i am liking this new journal. i like the way it looks. i don’t even mind the writing box too much. but i am having difficulty finding the right time to write. in the morning, before work, is too early and rushed. i am filled with thoughts on the walk up the hill. but have difficulty writing once in the office, not just because i *should* be working, but because i lose my thoughts and begin to feel soulless, drained and braindead. by the time i walk home, i am more refreshed, but i never regain those lost parts of myself again. until the weekend. and it goes so quickly. also, i might be suffering a little from not enough alone time. this is not a whine or a complaint, just a statement of fact. as our schedules are now, he has alone time all day, and i have none. as we are both aliens, we need quite a bit of alone time. lately i feel he has too much, and i have had none for quite some time, so … this week i think we are both feeling a little odd.
so i went to class, even though i would have preferred to sit under a tree and think. most days i love my medieval art history class. i like to sit in the dark and look at pictures, and listen, and write on my gesso pages with colored pencil lines. when i turn the pages, a squicking noise happens and i wait for someone to frown at me. i dare not miss class. i would have to ask one of the babies for notes. how embarrassing. not to mention, i notice many of the ones around me are reading the paper instead. i don’t make friends in class. i’m too old. i wonder when i will just stop.
this morning i was wondering why the reason i am so unsuccessful at art, and living a more creative life, not being so bound to A Job, is not so much because of debt and lack of energy, but because of fear. because of being a chickenshit. oh. i don’t think i can ponder this now. i feel my brains being sucked toward the pale white tubes in the ceiling panels…