Year of the Pig

As we near the closing of the final moon cycle, I feel the metaphors mounting. But for today, I'll let you think about your own metaphors.

Much is closing for me now, and of course, you know what they say about closings: always something else opening up.

A new year. Year of the Pig awaits me. February 18th (Sunday) begins a year filled with openings for me. According to one website:

As this past year of the Dog built structure and a symbolic "home" it is now time for the Pig to "furnish" said castle making it a comfortable, cozy place of safety and security. Occupying the life palace of home & family life with the Dog, the Pig proceeds to complete what the Dog has laid foundations for. Finishing touches, tying up loose ends, last stands, curtain calls and closures will be the urging of the year. So, prepare to finish projects, complete goals and even say some goodbyes. Put your ducks in a row, cross your T's and dot your I's in 2007 and the proper Pig will be gracious to you.

Yes. Finish projects, cross my t's and dot my i's. Much to do...

Anyway. Happy new year (lunar, Chinese, ...) to you. May the pig grace you...

another inane post

Some days, even when -- or especially when -- the work is mounting, I begin internet surfing as if I'm looking for an answer. Those days, I find, the internet is sorely lacking.

Today, as I began this surfing/procrastination, I realized that if I wanted my friends and relatives to post on their blogs (so that I can read them when I want to) I should post on my own.

Yet, I am blank today.

Or I feel blank. Void.

Anyone out there?

You inspired Me

Jebbo's comment inspired me to look around me a little more. To consider all of the fleeting moments that make up life.

Woke dry and crackling;
skipped yoga;
pulled a book
from the bedside table;
read myself back to dreamland.

Woke again, drank water
settled in the cup;
let my crusted eyes
open slowly
to the pale sunlight
bouncing from tan wall
to carpet.

Dog's yawn cuts silence
into tiny bits
of falling dust;
his front paw's claws
push gently against my forearm.

Banana, fat-free milk,
and a quick snatch of potato-chip
dip preludes my return
to the books, to the revisions,
to the blue glow
of the computer screen.

The bed against my back,
the world at my fingers,
I begin.

Looking for a clearing

Anyone have a clear space -- an empty moment -- any sort of openness that they can lend me?

I have that feeling that my chest is getting heavy.

I imagine drowning must feel similar.

My professors are starting to worry that I can't get this done in time.

I'm worrying.

I'm working.

The forest is dense.

Light? Anyone?

Snow day, full moon, and other distractions

I'm pushing the TGIF thing to its maximum potential. Yesterday, thanks to the appearance of ice on the roads (which, as you know, turns normal Southern people into frightened kittens in a room full of wolves), I was unexpectedly without classes to teach. With that knowledge came a sudden flood of industry: I worked like mad on those revisions. Then, like the air slowly leaves that overfilled balloon, I found that snow days aren't all that fun when you are home alone with a day to fill that you didn't plan on filling. Who wants to work all day? So I quit by mid-afternoon.

Unfortunately, that sense of not wanting to work anymore has somehow carried over to today: my normal work-on-the-dissertation day. I did some stuff, but overall today was not as productive as it should have been. I've decided to blame it on the full moon.

Why not?

I could blame it on this blog.

Or I could blame it on my stress levels (which are starting to feel like an annoying grinding sound that makes you slightly jumpy all of the time and makes you laugh at inappropriate moments a little too loudly and for a little too long).

Or I could look at myself square in the eyes (try to forget that I'm still in my pajamas and to forget that my hair hasn't been washed in two days) and say, you are just distracted today. You need to work on your discipline. Get to work.

But their is a yoga class in a few hours. I think I'll go to that instead.

Next time there is a snow day, I'll try to remember to pace myself.