Why Do Kids Hate "Time Outs" When It is Just What Every Grownup Needs Now and Then?

It would be so nice to be able to say that I am writing this mid-morning, wrapped in a luxurious robe and sipping hideously expensive hot chocolate as I sigh and decide which of the many erudite and wise thoughts I should impart to any reading my wonderfully sophisticated and witty blog, but that is not the case. It is a little after 5:30AM, I am in an old, too short nightie, there is no delicious hot chocolate to be had, and both my brain and eyes are still bleary from the sleep we are not getting right now. There is also the distinct possibility that my thoughts of the moment are anything except wise and erudite which, in turn, brings into question the wit and sophistication contained herein. Ahh, the difference between imagination and reality. Some days, more than others, it is easier to understand why some people, having once escaped reality by delving too far into their own imaginations, are not eager at all to dwell once again on the plains of reality. This becomes even more understandable when the current news and political situations in various places is studied at all. A long time ago I discovered that I really did have a choice between reality and imagination and found that writing was actually the ideal bridge between the two worlds, and a sure means of egress from one to the other, as needed. Reality is the world we all must live in, whether we hone our determination to remain in a world of imagination to escape it to the point of schizophrenia or not, and imagination is the realm of rest our tired minds can fall back on now and then, when reality becomes too harsh or we are too tired to keep our brains in check. It is also a realm I think writers, maybe more so than other people, inhabit. To use my own meager offerings as an example, where else - except in your imagination - could one have tea with a dragon? So, "viva la difference!"

It was a relief to take a day off from keeping up with my blog. I am having a few little jitters here and there as the day to start my master's course approaches. I am still shaking my head a little with the feeling of having gotten here, finally. If I am this bad now, what in the world will it be like if I manage to get into law school or a PhD program? I'll have to wait to discover that, in the meantime there is a lot of work to be accomplished between the two situations. I wonder if my new courses will feel the same to me as my undergrad courses did? This may seem like a strange thing to say, I mean how are school classes suppossed to "feel," but they do produce certain mental and emotional sensations within me, and so I wonder. My boyfriend always tells me that if I am having trouble telling how something feels I should just go and wash my hands so I will be able to "feel" better (some day I will hurt him for this). But, perhaps, this is essentially what I should be doing right now - cleansing my mind and heart of the past and proceeding, unhindered, into the future. I have graduated from an undergraduate program to a graduate program and the two, while comprable, are not the same thing. I am stepping from the taxi into the limo and will, eventually, rate the champagne as well.

The colors outside the window are monochromatic blues and the birds are not even awake yet. As the weather grows more and more chilly, they seem to be sleeping in, too. The insects have all bedded down and will probably not emerge until well after sun rise, which may be why the birds, whose entire existence is wrapped up in gathering enough food to survive until the following day, have not started their own day yet. It is certainly a testimony to our abilities of survival that, for many in our group (i.e. "human"), there is no need to constantly forage for sustenance. Thus was the world of blogging able to be brought into existence. Yesterday, as I watched from a window at the back of the house, I saw a cloud of insects that seemed to be emerging from some spot in our back yard. They were hovering, seemingly aloft in a very gentle breeze, and it was impossible for me to tell whether there were thousands of them or only a few hundred. I suspect their flight patterns were what created an illusion of there being thousands and thousands of them, all newly fledged, as they seemed to drift back and forth cloud-like, into and out of the air space I could see, but they were just far enough away to keep me from telling for certain if they were a population of millions finding their genesis from some spot in the yard or if they were a smaller group employing a deceptive dance to keep members of other species guessing as to their true numbers. Either way, it was fascinating to watch for the few minutes I was able to see them and observe. For a rather unkempt space, our backyard really affords me more amusement than I ever realized until after I started this blog. It never occured to me that I was studying the space around me and noticing so much until I found that it contributed quite a lot to my writing here.

Hah! The world is now bi-chromatic (meaning two?), having evolved in the emerging light from shades of only blues to blues and greens. It is a renaissance of nature that takes place every morning for those fortunate enough to get to witness it. A newly begun day, still wet from its birth, growing rapidly and making the most of its time before it too, must give up its life to make way for the next new day's emergence. Nature, it seems, is the only force truly in control as it, with inexorable determination, keeps on apace and yields its gifts while it deprives a part of itself of existence in the process. Day, night; life, death. Time moves steadily in only one direction, despite what Stephen Hawkings and others spend their time specualting and theorizing upon, and the rest of creation moves with it in concert or not, what ever the case may ultimately prove to be.

I must cut short my ethereal moment here, as I am going to see if I can get another hour or so of sleep before "officially" beginning this new day; this gift. Hopefully, I will find things to interest me, things to keep me thinking, and things to cherish for the rest of my life today. I need to be well rested for all of that. Adieux.