my impulse all day was to cry. there were many moments when i did let the emotion swell and let my eyes well up. it wasn't sadness, exactly. i would be sitting somewhere, maybe in fran's classroom watching her interact with a student, or alone in my office during lunch, or sitting in the dark audience watching our kids rehearse onstage, and a depth would swell inside me. it didn't feel weird or uncomfortable. something about it was wonderful. when i tried to describe it to fran, she said sometimes she liked crying because it reminded her she was alive. it felt that way for me. i was reminded of my reserves, maybe, in an emotional sense; and it felt nice to be sensitive to seemingly random stimuli.
our one-act play, an adaptation of euripides' bacchae, is going well. my teaching colleague has blocked some kick-ass speeches with our seven chorus members. and i am learning how to collaborate with him, to bring in my strengths and allow myself to step in when i get the impulse. he has been really great about giving me the permission to do that, because at this early stage in my path as an assertive person, i need that permission.
i wanted my high school speech mentor, mr. naegelin, to help me today. his picture is in my office. when i looked at him he was grinning.
i'm a sucker for this one song by tuck & patti called "tears of joy":
i can see the trace that sorrow
has left upon your face
and being realistic
i know there are some things that time
just won't erase
and so i'm coming to you gently
and there's one promise i can make
beside every tear that sorrow has left you
tears of joy will take its place
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