stand and smile and breathe
Oct. 10th, 2005 09:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
theladyroseThe funeral was this Saturday. I have no idea what to say.
Ellie has gone off to HK to renew her passport and deal with some of the aftermath, so I now have the slightly depressing distinction of being the only able-bodied person (and only driver) in the house.
What continues to surprise me about grief is its continued ability to suffocate all emotions with it. Somehow you manage to function perfectly while your emotions slip into a coma. The day's experiences slide off like beads of water on wax; no mood lingers and merely mirrors those of the people around you.
If I haven't said so already, Joan Didion's essay on grief published in the New York Times magazine two Sundays ago is possibly the most brilliant thing I've read in weeks.
Somehow by the end of tonight I'm going to finish my French absurdist play for my French seminar. That requires me to figure out what the hell I am going to write in English, and then afterwards translate my ideas. Err, right.
Somehow that's going to happen. And somehow tomorrow I'll find the time to do that Italian project Powerpoint that I should've turned in last Friday except that my computer account will neither let me save nor print anything. And then I need to study for my AP Euro test.
Luckily I didn't screw up my Columbia interview today; actually, I'm surprised that he said that I did a reasonably decent job and that I will probably get in (although I don't believe that last part at all). My interviewer was...interesting, possibly what one might call a reverse racist? He puzzles me.
Ellie has gone off to HK to renew her passport and deal with some of the aftermath, so I now have the slightly depressing distinction of being the only able-bodied person (and only driver) in the house.
What continues to surprise me about grief is its continued ability to suffocate all emotions with it. Somehow you manage to function perfectly while your emotions slip into a coma. The day's experiences slide off like beads of water on wax; no mood lingers and merely mirrors those of the people around you.
If I haven't said so already, Joan Didion's essay on grief published in the New York Times magazine two Sundays ago is possibly the most brilliant thing I've read in weeks.
Somehow by the end of tonight I'm going to finish my French absurdist play for my French seminar. That requires me to figure out what the hell I am going to write in English, and then afterwards translate my ideas. Err, right.
Somehow that's going to happen. And somehow tomorrow I'll find the time to do that Italian project Powerpoint that I should've turned in last Friday except that my computer account will neither let me save nor print anything. And then I need to study for my AP Euro test.
Luckily I didn't screw up my Columbia interview today; actually, I'm surprised that he said that I did a reasonably decent job and that I will probably get in (although I don't believe that last part at all). My interviewer was...interesting, possibly what one might call a reverse racist? He puzzles me.
