“Over the past few months,” I wrote in my letter of resignation, “I have seen what I can only hope is the worst in each of us.” These are words which I can only hope will be read.
They are also words that come at the end of this story. So let’s start at the beginning.
Continue readingLike the elements of an unintended chemical reaction, things lately have been building toward an inevitable explosion–or worse, an irreversible meltdown. Between classes, uncertainties, and life changes, “chaos” even seems a kind descriptor of recent events.
Then, between today and yesterday, but mostly today, things were pulled back into perspective and I’ve had the power–the courage perhaps–to do what I haven’t in a long while: Write.
By nature I’m a very trusting person. By nature I give everyone the benefit of the doubt. By nature I strive to be kind and compassionate, and for the most part, I think I succeed.
So when the knife came out, I never imagined it’d be directed at me.
As forewarning, I’m procrastinating on getting to the meat of this post. I took a look-see last night to start mulling over this next mishneh, and let me tell you, it was not pretty.
It was, no matter, on my mind this morning when I went to Shabbat services, which is the perfect place for this brief distraction to begin. There’s two things, really, that I’d like to mention–although with all the old faces I saw and the intriguing conversations I had this morning well into the afternoon, my inspiration for excursions is certainly not at all on the low-end, if you get what I mean.
The Writingwolf: Words and Wonders 