A harbinger of spring, and warmth, and happiness!

Thank you for all the kind words yesterday. I vented because I just couldn’t think of what to talk about on the blog, in part because I was so tired… well, between you all being encouraging, a pair of parties booked for the weekend, a canceled class that freed up my evening, and some art time in a stolen moment, I feel much better.

I know, objectively, that I’m doing good. But it’s hard to keep my head up all the time, and it would be dishonest of me to constantly portray chipper resolution on the blog. I do try not to whine, though. Tomorrow, I will have made a concerted effort to have finished a review for you all, and return you to regularly scheduled what-nots for the weekend. I plan to write on competition for Mad Genius Club on saturday, and am still snippeting Trickster Noir for Sundays, although I need to look at how many snippets until pub date and how much of the book that releases into the wild…

And I need to do something with the writing. Maybe even 100 words a day. The art is soothing, right now, but the writing not having any forward momentum is a little frightening. Especially if I take most of my spring break to go see my kids (the current plan!).

In the mean time, I have two exams next week. Precalculus, again, and chemistry. I will say that taking Gen. Chem after having taken the overview Chemistry last semester is more than a little easier than taking it cold. Also, I’m tutoring 4 students in Chem, which is helping me. Now, to figure out how to get a handle on the math!

I was messing around on the computer, looking at old poetry. I don’t write a lot of it. Most of what I wrote in-a-past-life as a young woman is sheer dreck. But it surprises me, from time to time, to find something I don’t remember writing, and to look at it and say… there’s something there.

Soul’s Mate

Service to you is a pleasure.

My gift to my love.

I will pour it out, a libation to you, 

It is to be given. Given!

Do not take it, do not

Force me to shatter and 

splash forth my innermost being

on the dry, dusty plains of your despair. 

Let me give my soul to water you, and I

Will make you a garden for love.