Watching the flowers blossom slowly and then wilt equally slowly makes me painfully conscious of days and the lack of sunlight from sitting in my cubicle all day. Last Sunday I spent almost all day in my room, working and glancing up every now and then to watch the light change on the wisteria outside.
I tried to work on the quilt today; it's been so long, like picking up a dusty instrument and playing with fingers stiff from disuse. I didn't get much done; just tried hard to figure out exactly how I had made the previous blocks. Sat around a lot. Thought.
I've been struggling a lot with how to deal with the Virginia Tech shootings. I spent an hour today reading through the profiles of those who were killed on the Washington Post website, trying to figure out what kind of people they were, if they had been my classmates, what would I have felt? When I hear the thoughts of one of the boys in that German class, who just kept thinking about what it would feel like to die as his classmates were shot around him, I think that I wouldn't have had thought anything different.
I'm sad too, for Cho, because so many people must have hurt him for him to turn out like he did; and he must have been so lost and angry and vengeful. I think it's terrible that people have to feel that way, that they have so many wounds that run so deep, that they have to turn on their classmates. Sometimes, we don't take the time to look for how close we are to each other.
I think I'll go play piano for a while. Maybe it will help me to feel less alone.