Tuesday, January 13, 2004

It's not the spectre of intense tragedy but the sum of minor irritants that puts me off course. A nudge here and a nudge there and I am ready to run, lock, stock and the whole burning barn. Somebody surprise me with a little permanence.

On second thoughts, this has become a habit. The lament to the heavens, the angst of the limelight to an audience little more than none.

Am back in school, gathering the threads of a temporarily forgotten scheme. And it's nice to feel it all seeping back. The road to the library, the trees and the rain and the newly dug flower beds. And the oh-so-bright blossoms. It's good to be back. For some time at least.

I walked to the department today, met a friend, spoke to a prof, ran a few errands. Nothing spectacular. But just the surety of everyday purpose is such a comfort. Like a thin blanket on a winter's summer day.