Monday broke my lap-top, so I wrote the blog post for Tuesday in the old paper style.
Yesterday was packed, so no time for my blog. Today is as same, but I will take the effort and see how it progresses.
Too bad I do not remember what was it that made yesterday so busy. I remember at one point in the late afternoon I was laying down on the couch and my body wanted me to stand up, and do some work, the dishes, a lunch. Anything, something.
But I have had the flat cleaned, and I had had beans soup ready from yesterday. The heater went on, and bippity boppity boo: warm lunch for three, in a sec. I get to realize that having lunch prepared on weekends is a great tip, especially when you make soup – they do not dry in the fridge.
I might have been tired from the gym, anyway, I spent the afternoon laying on the couch and staring at my son`a cow`s eyes while he stared at Cars. He had chickenpox for the last two weeks, and got addicted to this cartoon. He watched it five times in a row per a day when he was ill, and got sad each time the cartoon world had finished, and euphoric with every new beginning of it, always insisting for more. The addiction should stop anytime soon, we are gradually taking him off of it, and it is already working.
In general Monday was a fine day. At one point I doubted my idea of quitting school when I went to the computer lab and saw that it is a final day to enroll for the next semester. I took courage and I did what I had to do, I hope. I stared at the monitor terrified, telling myself that I cannot stay in school only because I feel comfortable there. The self addressed remarks were echoing in my mind:
GO OUTSIDE THE COMFORT ZONE. EXPLORE THE WORLD. DO EXACTLY WHAT YOU WANT TO DO. DON`T BE AFRAID. Staying in school forever is, IS NOT THE REAL WORLD.
I am not born to become a teacher one day, I heard myself thinking, I am born to become all the other things I want in life. Look at the old guy that sets next to me, I talked to myself. He is in school, he is a medical doctor that is obtaining a degree in history.
Funny, in the same chair, there was another old man a month ago. He was a poet, and when I met him, I asked him about his name. Instead of telling it, he googled himself for me. Pictures from him featured on the monitor, he had written, he said 34 books of poetry. On many of the pictures from him on google, as same as in person, he wore a scarf made out of an textile that does not keep one warm. Luckily, he had a fertile beard to keep him warm in the winters of this cold country. He was writing a thesis in philosophy on spirituality. “What is this thing called spirit?” He asked me when he presented his research topic to me.
His mentor died on the day he submitted the thesis, I have not seen him ever since, but I do hope so that he got a grade for it, a good grade, from somebody else; and that this event will become even more fertile from his beard, spring of inspiration for the poems that are waiting to be told. He was a good guy, his desk was overloaded with books. I like people that love books.
I wonder now, why the new old guy does history after practicing medicine for all of his career. Why did he graduated in medicine at all, did somebody make him? Maybe his father was a doctor with a private practice, and he as an only son in the family, maybe, had to inherit the clinic. Or maybe, he is like me, a man with a full bucket of ideas, and final goal – to realize all of them.