the first days of spring

Days are ever longer. I woke up at six today to go to an exam, and the sun was already rising. I wrote about Narcissus and the necessity of self-love for six hours behind dark red curtains that shut out the sunlight. Emerging from the exam was a rebirth, and outside the wind surrounded me like an embrace.

Two more weeks, and my exams will be over. Two more weeks of bated breath and shaking hands. I think I'll manage. I cross my fingers every now and then, for luck. 

I have reached the point where I translate everything in my head into Spanish. And I seem to find historical facts I could slip into almost any conversation. (I don't, for the sake of my friends.) 

I have found a fragile appreciation for myself. I wrote before about sometimes sneakily loving my hips, and this surprising love is extending to the tired bags beneath my eyes, to the wrinkles of my elbows, to the red indentations left behind by tights and underwear. (I have wanted a tattoo since the age of fifteen or so but I have always been stopped by the fear of committing to this body of mine, accepting that this will be my shell for the rest of my life. I think I may be nearing the time of ink.) 

Bear with me, please. I'll write something sensible after a few weeks, I hope. In the meanwhile these scatterings of thoughts comfort me like nothing else.





(Also, I wrote something about the Kony 2012 campaign on my other blog. You can check it out here, if you want to.)