burning like matchsticks in the face of the darkness|
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Friday, September 11th, 2009
Wednesday night I went to bed ~10:30 and when I got up in the morning was like, "Why so tired?" Thursday night I went to bed ~midnight (I was on the phone with Ari until ~10:30, but the rest of that is my fault) and was tired this morning, but just in the usual way. *hands* (I was nearly falling asleep at my desk mid-morning doing reading for class, though. And mid-afternoon. I told Scott, "I'm looking forward to sleeping forever tomorrow. By which I mean until at least noon.")
I really should have just gone home and gone to bed after work, but instead I got dinner to-go at Mr. Crepe (including an iced coffee with an Almond flavor shot and a lot of skim milk -- which still tasted too much of coffee underneath that for my taste, but I stayed awake through the film, which was my goal), read for class and phoned with Ari at the MFA T stop, and went to a film at the MFA
. (I'd forgotten that because it's Friday rather than Saturday -- the last time I went to an MFA film late at night -- the museum was still open; but I enjoyed sitting on the bench, leaned up against a pole, knees bent, enjoying the fresh air ... though okay I could have done without the noisy teenagers across the tracks, and the fire engines, especially while I was on the phone.)
Oh, and Scott stopped by near the end of the workday (I hadn't seen him since Tuesday) and showed off his career fair swag (apparently H.R.T. gave out 4gig flashdrives/bottle openers) and hugged me :) \o/
+++( gym: Sept. 8-11Collapse )
I forgot about this until sweet_adelheid
posted last night.
I've been thinking more about Rosh Hashanah
-- which begins next Friday. (Sidebar: I subscribed to "Jewish Holidays" on my Google Calendar, and I find it interesting that it says "New Year" and "Day of Atonement" and "Festival of Booths" rather than "Rosh Hashanah" and "Yom Kippur" and "Sukkot.")
Last night, Mary Borsellino wrote
Today is World Suicide Prevention Day, apparently, which I guess means it was yesterday in Australia really but whatever.
I am lucky because several of my closest friends have suicidal thoughts on a regular basis. That sounds completely insane, but this is how it works: we are honest with each other. We can talk about it openly and know that we'll be met with compassion and understanding, not horror and revulsion. Monsters in the dark don't have the same power when you turn on the light.
A year and a half ago, somebody important to me couldn't find that light switch for her own darkness. It was too much for her, and she died. Her death is one of the most horrifying things that's happened within the universe of the people I know and care about, and within myself.
I wrote my biography-zine, Sharpest, last year for one simple reason: I wanted other people to be able to read something which felt like a conversation, an open and sincere one of the sort my friends and I have. I've had a few feedback letters from readers which suggest that for some people, this is exactly what I've done, and those letters make me cry. If I never manage to write anything good ever again, I at least got the most important one out.
Morning always comes again. Please stick around to see it.
It was strange to me today that it was a grey day, since I remember so clearly walking back from Seelye under the bright blue sky. (And yes, that makes me sing Ani
, even though I have -- and have always had -- problems with that song.)A recent post
on the blog "when love comes to town" talked about what happened after the 9/11/2001 attacks:
- And that is precisely what [Renee] Girrard describes in his work regarding scapegoats: pinning all of our hatred and fear on the scapegoat always unifies a society - but only for a season - and then more violence is needed to bind people together. Further, societies rarely consider the consequences of scapegoating - history is never told from the perspective of our victims - so we rarely feel remorse or act in repentance.
- Which is why the story and reality of Jesus is unique: for the first time, Girrard suggests, history is told from the perspective of the innocent scapegoat. For the first time we can see the horrible consequences of our violence. Indeed, what makes the passion of Christ so important in NOT the horrible violence a la Mel Gibson. That, sadly, is all to ordinary. No, what makes the passion life changing is the awareness that Christ died to expose this horrible sin and invite us - with God's grace - to stop it.
I was struck by this particularly because I've been thinking about atonement theology recently