phoenix {rising}
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Tentatively Maybe Okay. Maybe.
<<2003-02-12 - 7:47 p.m.>>

While I wept continuously through my therapy session this morning, and while I displayed no trace of my intelligent self during the immediately-following Humanities conference, and while I have been having something of an overblown reaction to my run-in with a hole in my heretofore natural grammatical goodness, I think I might be feeling a bit better. I think this because I enjoyed Tai Chi today even though I'm really sore and in kind of a lot of pain and because I went to dinner with a bunch of people and didn't feel pained and distracted and distant and because I am once again writing run-on sentences.

I'm glad as all hell that my mother is coming to visit on Saturday. I'm pretty much counting the days. Childish as it may sound, I want my mom. I want someone whose job it is to take care of me. I haven't been feeling so self-sufficient of late.

I sent Chloë an email today that in an incredibly brief amount of space conveyed the information that I miss her, really, really, really a lot. In response I got a full letter, and I grinned and giggled and loved her from across the country. She hinted, once again, at this super whiz-bang surprise that will apparently be revealed to me quite soon (I assume this weekend, with my mother's visit). This is very interesting. I have never had a whiz-bang surprise before. I've never even had a surprise birthday party. It's all quite intriguing. I was stumped at first and then I thought maybe it was news of a trip being planned for the two of us (the hint in her email was that it required discussion between our respective mothers), and then when I got to dinner, Megan suggested that maybe unplanned people were coming to visit. Which would definitely make sense. This planted a seedling of home that maybe I will be seeing Chloë on Saturday, and that would be incredible beyond belief. Dear God, would that be incredible. Surprises are fun.

Another nice thing is the TF Valentine. An account was set up and the password distributed to all, so that anonymous valentines may be sent. I sent several, got quite a few. One said that the (anonymous) writer hadn't liked me upon my arrival, but had come to appreciate me, which was really lovely to hear, because it makes me think that if I just stick with being me and telling the truth, the people whom I bother on the forum will eventually not hate me, which is a nice thought especially given my occasional bouts of paranoia. Another said I gave my identity away by including the phrase "hoi polloi" in my rhyming poem. Hee.

I've never gotten valentines, and never been surprised. New things.

Which of course brings up the scariness of the New Things. And the scariness of the Old Things.

It's just that over the past few days, the barrier between the furious grief and my daily life has become unacceptably thin. It's always there. Zibby asked if I thought I wanted to keep talking about it today, and I said that I can't very well stay where I am now, so onward we go.

The problem, of course, is that I don't know what direction "onward" is. The path's unbeaten from here on out.

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