Wednesday, November 09, 2005
The Soul of Wit
Last night I drove around in my car for 40 minutes. I drove because I was home, antsy and needed to go somewhere. My thoughts were getting the best of me. The drive didn't help. All it did was confirm the fact that I had nowhere to go. I tried to find a spot to sit and park...but all of them were either too visible by the general public, or too invisible...both dangerous in their own ways. When I call Rachel, she asks me to talk about it...but I can't. I can't put the reccurence of it all into words anymore. There are many elements of my life I have questioned in the past few days...especially. That is to say, I've questioned them before...but these past few days I've questioned them more. Always questioning. I'm tired of the questioning. Rachel tells me before I hang up that I am not alone. "We'll get through this together." she says. I want to believe her. But the next day I burst into tears at a moment's notice just the same. The ups and downs come...and keep coming. And I want them to go away. I want them to let me go. I want me back from them. And I realize this post has no real clarity or coherence to it. For some reason I feel compelled to write anyway. It's funny how that happens. I guess because writing this down here, gives me hope for something. Even if I'm not sure what it is. "As a scholar, I feel obliged to document what it is like here most of the time. Between the dramatic climaxes. In truth it is like this: you can not imagine how time can be so still. It hangs. It weighs. And yet there is so little of it. It goes so slowly. And yet it is so scarce. If I were writing this scene, it would last a full fifteen minutes. I would lie here. And you would sit there. Not to worry...brevity is the soul of wit." - Emma Thompson in 'Wit'.