In Vino, Veritas?

Mood: Amused Song: American Pie (explanation to follow) Note to the wise: there are some things that DEFINITELY make it on Juliet's T.M.I. list (too much info can actually be a bad thing :) ). Picture this: A long day already, I am ready to go home and watch the Donald's ridiculous coiffure flailing about as he mercilessly shouts out "you're FIRED!" *include visual of Trump's finger-pointing bravado here* The last student, my 8:00, walks into the writing center. Though his name is Hamad, he prefers Omar, for reasons I can only speculate about. Being the professional I am, I say, "okay, why don't you have a seat and we can go ahead and get started." He complies, and then it happens... I ask him how I can help him, and he tells me, "You know, I'm not really sure about this paper I wrote; It might not make very much sense, since I was completely drunk when I wrote it." ?!?!?!?! Actually, knowing that interesting tidbit of information actually helped explain quite a bit about the paper :). Comma splices=slurred speech. Hmmmm... Maybe I should have had him explain "American Pie" to me. I never did really understand that song. There are days when, Atlas-like, I carry the weight of useless regrets like so many sandbags. My beloved would agree with this, that I have to see the humor in life; otherwise, it would be unbearable. I thank our Lord that he gives strength when our human bodies are about to snap. It's pretty pathetic when you look forward to student teaching because your life is actually going to ease up some. This morning I could bearly force my eyes to open-they felt like they had literally been stapled shut. Business aside, however, I have never been as fulfilled as I am right now. I am so blessed, being able to breathe the *only slightly polluted* air, fill my stomach whenever I want (although it is NOT getting Ben and Jerry's Brownie Batter OR Primary Berry Graham, no matter how much it is pleading), and know the fulfillment of loving and being loved in return. Life moves on, season to season, a perfect mixture of change (THIS year) and stability (another spring), and it is as if I have moved into the primeval, archetypical springtime of life at last.