I'm Allergic to Regret

I stepped outside yesterday and caught a scent which pulled me through the space/time continuum to a tight and confining spot, even for a small child.  The floor was layered with decades of dried leaves beneath and a canopy of thin, and slightly velvety, gray-green leaves above.

When I was five years old, I found the best hiding place in the world.  Unfortunately, I was a nasty child who felt the need to hide from my little brother, who was two at the time and practically worshiped me.  Equally unfortunate is how much I regret my hateful, hiding habits of 45 years ago.

The slightly tangy aroma that wafted across the breezes yesterday afternoon was the scent of Russian Olive blossoms and the hiding place of all those years ago was underneath an enormous Russian Olive tree that sat on the boarder of our neighbor's property.  The old tree had a huge circumference, but was so low to the ground, it required a crouch, a crawl and then an army-man scootch to position myself under it.  Once into place, I could sit Indian-style or roll onto my back and enjoy the light filtering through those leaves and that sweet fragrance of the flowers while I listened to the distant sound of little Jim calling, "Dorda", "Doooorda!" as he toddled around the yard.

Throughout the years of growing up in that house with that huge tree in the back yard, I don't recall ever having allergies, but for the past 20 some-odd years, I can mark the exact day the Russian Olives bloom because my eyes water, my nose runs and the back of my throat itches to the point of wanting to scratch it with a sharp pencil.  I bear it as bravely as possible, because I am positive this is God's way of punishing me for hiding from my sweet, little brother.  I wish he would call me now.  I would scramble out of my place and run to him and hug him as hard as I can and then show him greatest hiding place on earth.

The Tin Man Revisited

So I got my first Algebra test back yesterday.  I had felt confident that I did really well, so I was disappointed to only receive an 80% on it.  The most frustrating thing is that I got the answers right on the test, but I did dumb things like mix up brackets and parenthesis, drop a negative, and forget to flip a less-than sign.  Dumb.  Dumb.  Dumb.  The whole way home from school I was humming the Tin Man's song from Wizard of Oz... "If I only had a brain".

I've heard the best thing about an education is that it teaches us how much we really do not know.  I am learning that lesson extremely well.  Before returning to school I thought I was fairly organized, hard working, and quick on the uptake, but now I realize I'm kind of a slacker.  I have to force myself to slow down and really think.  I am definitely rusty.  I hope the Tin Man will loan me his oil can so I can pump a few drops into the stiff cogs and wheels of my brain and get them moving again.  I also hope I can find a wizard who will hand me a diploma someday.

Unread

I know there are a few people who visit this blog and the blog I write for Indexing in my Stake, but I rarely receive a comment...which is fine, I don't NEED feedback (although it doesn't hurt and is actually downright nice when it occurs).  I'm feeling unread today because I still don't have my first Philosophy paper graded and returned and its time to start writing the second one.  I really, really want to know how I did on that first one before I begin the next.  It would be helpful to know if my writing style suited the professor or not; if my focus was anywhere near what he was looking for; and what major flaws he exposed which I can correct on paper number two.

Perhaps its better not to know all the problems and just sail nonchalantly into the next project.  I'm making myself nuts as I consider all the possible criticisms and the feasible outcomes of going into a second paper ignorant of disapproval I incurred on the first.

If I posted my last assignment here I wonder if anyone out there in cyberspace would read and respond or it would just sit here unread...? I'm not going to risk it.  I'm feeling just a little too vulnerable today.