Home for spring break. I was wrong to think that I wanted to go somewhere for break. Visiting Southern Pines and then coming home was all I needed. This morning, once Kelsey woke up, all six of us gathered in our bathroom (sometimes we do irrational things) and laughed and talked about the growth on Sam's heel, how we have to be more ladylike (it was indecorous of Grace to tackle Sam in front of his bros; Kelsey needs to cross her legs when she sits down; I have to stop saying "damn"), what we're going to do this week, how we are going to fatten me up, whether Grace has more clothes than God. It felt whole, healthy to be a family unit.
I am simultaneously perplexed and disgusted with Twitter. I know it can be easily classed as a hypocritical observation, but I can't help but feel that Twitter is the icing on the cake of this generation's unhealthy obsession with broadcasting every minute of our lives. 8:43 a.m. I am eating shredded wheat; it's a little soggy and that makes me unhappy. 8:50 a.m. I am now pulling on my socks. I wonder where my gray pair is... 8:56 a.m. Time to leave for work. There are fliers under my windshield wipers. No one should care or need to know these things. No one. (Angela knows what I'm talking about.) If someone can give me a compelling reason for Twitter to exist, I might hear it.
Everyone has been writing such great blogs lately; I feel like I'm falling behind.
I want to go to Target and buy things I don't need.
Not in our time, O Lord,
the plowshare for the sword,
not in our time, the knife,
sated with life-blood and life,
to trim the barren vine;
no grape-leaf for the thorn,
no vine-flower for the crown;
not in our time, O King,
the voice to quell the re-gathering,
- H.D., "Tribute to the Angels," no. 4, Trilogy