Excuse the blurriness of this photo; I took it with my phone under the always flattering fluorescent lights of my classroom. The Fine Arts Festival is tomorrow, and this is how I feel. What once was exhilarating has become drudgery. I have so many tiny details to juggle, and they keep cycling through my mind. I can't wait for Friday, when I'll suddenly have a lot more brain space. Right now it's full of Do we have enough 3 inch c-clamps, and what about that really good foam tape, and will that kid remember to bring Item X, and why don't I just make a list of the stuff I need to take to the auditorium, how can I make sure not to forget those paintings by the door, and especially how come I don't get bonus pay for this? I'm doing the work of three women: curator, framer, and oh yeah, that art teaching thing I still have to do.
But the occasional random thought will pop up. Earlier today I saw a dead hawk in the middle of the road and I thought, "Where are all the other dead birds?" Because how many birds does a person see in a lifetime? A million? But how many dead birds are included in that number? A hundred, tops? How come they're not dropping out of the sky, falling on our heads and windshields all the time, and where do they all go when they die?
I need a nap.
[Above: Edvard Munch's The Scream with one of my students as the head. I think she really caught the essence of Munch's vision, while adding just a touch of freshman girl spazziness.]
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