La depression, la réhabilitation

"Isis, o Isis, you're a mystical child. What drives me to you is what drives me insane. I still can remember the way that you smiled on the 5th day in May, in the drizzling rain."

This is probably not the best time in the world to revisit my Bob Dylan collection, but so it goes... Sadly my copy of Bring It All Back Home (my personal fav) has gotten lost somewhere. I guess Blood On The Tracks and Blonde on Blonde will have to do for now.

~~

Today's snow day is a major blessing. If it hadn't been called, I would probably have called out of work, then dragged myself down to Math class, felt increasingly depressed as a result, then debated going home and back to bed, or trying to get work done at the library. Most likely bed would have won.

Between the anxiety provoked by math and the thesis, the failure of a personal relationship has been too much to carry. But last night I rediscovered the restorative properties of Amnesty, wine and cashew chili. The potluck at Eileen's place was so relaxing and fun, I almost forgot how broken I feel. I have been wondering around on auto pilot this last week, worried that I will leave Maine and USM without ever having created lasting relationships. But I had forgotten the good people at Amnesty. They are all so positive, caring and engaged. I always get the feeling they really want me to succeed. Its almost like having family around, family without baggage.

Leo asked me why I had a picture of Ché on my Gmail account. I had a moment of panick, how the hell could I justify this to a group of Human Rights campaigners. The Che shirt I was wearing was burning a hole in my chest... Well, I gave it to them strait up: I was attracted to his charisma, his commitment, his desire to erase geographical, economic, and psychological borders. I loved the fact that he was willing to put the cause above his own life, and that he was uncorrupt, willing at all times to do the work he himself demanded of others. But I could never reconcile all this with his bloodlust, his abuse of human rights, his advocacy of war as the mechanism of change, and his failure as a father and husband.

To my relief both Leo and Liz had just read Anderson's Ché bio. They agreed with my opinion. My caveat is that I also associate Ché with my uncle, someone I respect immensely. Well, any way... At least I have the first chapter of the thesis written, and the second chapter is being penned this, and next week (almost two weeks ahead of schedule I might add...). So today I will recover a bit of energy and direction by sitting in the window, reading up on nationalism and racial identity, looking out the window, and contemplating. The Dao will be close at hand of course:

"Gaining or losing - which is the greater scourge?" Dao 44