Night School

When it becomes difficult to face the day to day, I plan for tomorrow ... been doing a lot of that lately.

... and thinking, not much doing but a lot of thinking. Some resolving, perhaps.

Just got back from a late-night run and not quite ready for more schoolwork ... nor for the half-marathon I'm going to try for in just over a week. The candle-lit, open-book bath (more so as not to see the light brown colored water I lay in than for ambiance) I just arose from has me feeling kinda contemplative, so rather than curl up in front of the fire with more failing papers to grade, I'll blog a bit. I passed Kermit twice tonight, going and coming, which made the circuit close to a five mile loop along the creek. A soft shower was falling, almost looking like snow in the glow of the street-lights, raindrops trailing down my cheeks like warm, spring tears. Running works out my muscles and my mind, burning off calories and anxiety equally.

Leland was asleep for the most part, the streets quiet save for my heavy breathing and the rhythm of my sneakers on the pavement, only a few lights still on in the homes that I passed by. I jogged passed a group of ducks on the shore of the creek beside Leland High School, wide awake and quacking away in a loud chorus. Along one dark and open stretch of road cutting through an expanse of fallow fields, beyond the creek, the houses and the street-lights, I felt my pace and pulse quicken. Alone, between the distant lights of Greenville dotting the horizon and the pockets of stars blinking between clouds, my steps grew lighter and quicker ... apparently at my best when I'm certain that nobody is watching. Or just more afraid. I laughed at the 'Slow Children At Play' sign (never gets old ... Darwin would have ran them over), and was startled, again, by the unexpected presence of the three wise men, life size mannequins still lingering from Christmas, standing amongst the shadows at a particularly dark bend in the road.

Had a really good weekend past. After an easy Friday at school and orange juice with oatmeal cookies at the home of my mentor teacher, Mike and I sped up Route 7 to Oxford just in time to meet Grace and Lily for the Angela Davis lecture. From the Ford Center we made our way over to the Oxford Film Festival for 10 mph. After a midnight snack at Huddle House, I kept awake to talk the hours away in our hotel room before passing out not long before it was time to get up again for class. Saturday, after class, a few of us drove over to Lake Patsy where we ran around as the sun set, kicking the soccer ball or each other then collapsing by the water's edge. From Patsy to pizza, then another movie and more late night Days Inn conversations. Exhausted, Mike and I drove back refreshed, somewhat, after sleeping in on our first Sunday morning in Oxford. Not in any hurry to get back to the scattered paper piles and unfinished lesson plans, we pulled off the highway once into the Delta and got ourselves lost and got the truck covered in mud along a few unmarked dirt roads. Back in Indianola, Mike left me at school where I had left my car on Friday. Intending to get some work done in my classroom before catching our senior class play in the gymnasium that evening, I was easily convinced instead to hop into a pick-up game out on the field with some of the guys I coached in the fall. The sun was out, it was another beautiful day in what had been a gorgeous weekend and I was feeling fairly young and free. After trying my best to not show my age on the football field, goddamn that sounds strange, and making it to the gym for the second half of the play, I promptly went home and fell asleep ... and didnt get up until today ... Tuesday.


The woods are lovely, dark and deep
But I have promises to keep
And miles to go before I sleep – Robert Frost