Tired, got home, looking for the right words, the right steps. Thinking of the next post, daring to think of the next-- the first-- choreography. Always aware of the risk of not satisfying my own standards, of the looming incompetence, of the ineffability of what's really important. It's already hard in Italian, what am I trying to do in this language that still feels foreign on the tongue, that makes me goofy and tentative and apologetic? It feels like improvisation, or worse.
And yet arrogance is the close cousin of humility, and I feel proud of still being capable of attempting, of taking a risk. The impenetrability of logic, or the frustration of a short paper, or the weaving of new friendships, or the feeling of too many years gone by, or... Or still coping with the same old search for the perfect words, but lacking even the imperfect ones.
I feel so overwhelmed by the last days. This end of the semester is even more intense than its beginning. I cannot name the single events, they're too private. Painful, some of them. Scary, others. Beautiful, a few.
Among these, the last three nights. No, no words are coming. Not the appropriate ones. I am too sober, inebriated but not uninhibited. I look at the first snow of the season, poignant in its gentleness, and I wish my camera worked, my pen could write, my hands could flow on the keyboard like they didn't mind.
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2 comments:
i, for one, appreciate the english! always happy to hear of your goings-on in my google reader. :) glad you have had some beautiful moments mixed in with the painful at the end of the semester. chasing perfection is a kind of disease which most graduate students share, i've discovered... if i find the cure i will let you know. i am also still searching.
hugs for the holidays!
kelly :)
thanks Kelly! (although I already told you on FB). I wanted to add for those who were not aware of it that that was the last night in which I had been dancing in the "A Different Drum Fall Show".
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