Back in the early 90s, I shared an apartment with one of my best friends, and we listened to this album a lot, especially when we were cleaning up the place.
This song in particular has been in my head today. “Sometimes you’re the windshield. Sometimes you’re the bug.” I’m definitely feeling like the bug.
The pandemic has finally taken a good hard swipe at my workplace. It had already taken a few swings, (“Sometimes you’re the Louisville Slugger. Sometimes you’re the ball.”) sending us into Zoom classes and cutting back resources. Now I’ve lost classes and need to find a second job.
I’ve pretty much had the same job since 1997, so I’m still in the shock phase. And I love my job. I love helping students. And it’s allowed me the time to be around for my kiddo and make art and write.
I don’t know what to expect. Do we ever really?
In the meantime, I have my current projects.
If you’re looking for a handmade journal or other art, I sell things on ETSY.
And of course, there’s the newsletter too.
I have been writing for Story-a-Day May. It’s been challenging to write and to share while filling out job applications and reading endless job descriptions. Hats off to everyone who’s been dealing with job hunts already. It definitely feels like its own circle of hell.
In any case, I’m not sharing the full pieces (for reasons!) but here is something from day four.
Why do you imagine the kingdom rests between the Great Farrago Mountains and the Wailing Sea? Perhaps you learned in history class about the wars and the winners who declared what land they would take?
Of course, there is truth in those history lessons. The wars were fought and the winners did lay claim to what they wanted or what they thought they could get away with. ‘Twas ever thus.
But the winners standing on the hilltop didn’t have the only story. History is a multifaceted gem. You can polish only one side if you like, but you miss on the beauty of it all.
If you remember the names from your history books, bravo! I love a good student. And perhaps I’m limiting myself. How far ahead of me in time are you, dear reader? Should my words last so long, our distant war might be your myth.
Goodness. I can’t imagine my words lasting so far into the future. I’m not even sure they’ll leave my room.
But I write them anyway.
Let me tell you about the illustrious ladies who were here before. They were before the invaders and the wars and the name of the kingdom. I’m lucky to have to learned their names and now I shall pass them on to you.
Thank you for reading!