the monologue

Okay, I changed my mind.  I don't want this up.  I'm sorry for wasting your time with this.  


(And if you happened to already have looked at what was here or read it (for real!?) that's all right.  I read it again several hours later and it sounded harsher during the read than it was during the write, so I didn't want to be misunderstood.)


Basically:  I talked with the president of the union this afternoon.  It went fine.  I don't feel like he hates me.    I do still feel like I'm not the best person for this job.  I think I'm going to continue learning a lot.  It might be a long next four months and one week.

full moon

I asked the moon what she thought
That night the Son died.
She didn't say anything for a while.
Just hung there
And let a passing cloud cover her glow.

When she finally spoke, she said--carefully--
The Son?
She glided a moment more.  Then,
I always shine brightest on the darkest of nights.
Why? she said.
Because of the Son.

And that night was my brightest night.

The Man Who Laughs

An open Skype window covered up the senders and subjects of the gmail account which was open behind.  So I didn't have a clue.  I opened the older new email.  From Dad.  Then I pressed the up arrow to the newer email.

waBAM!  Huge grin, little audible whoops, both arms straight in the air, craning around to see if the rest of the world shares my excitement, pointing at the screen, laughing.

jAnelle junn sent me an email, complete with poem.  Oh man.  It's those little things that really catch you off guard.  A poem!  Just like old times.  Bless you, jAnelle junn.