get ready...em...

Today we ran by chance to Rowan Oak. There were three of us, and we were winding away from the exhaust smell and towards things oxygen-producing. The gate was closed but we walked right in, assuming it was a park, ignoring the signs. The path was lined with cedars-- there was a white house, with pillars-- there were hedges, magnolia. The remains of a stone cocentric garden thick with ghosts. Servant's quarters. A firehydrant. Wheelchair access. We realized where we were.
Fortuity.

Nothing makes any sense the first week someplace new. Each day is a new epoch and I still can't find my way around. I think the buildings move when I'm not watching. I don't sleep as much as I should.

The program itself is the topic here, right? Okay. It's good so far, I guess. A much better orientation than Peace Corps, anyway. More human. Smarter. I enjoy teaching at the summer school in the mornings. I like to be around them. They have an energy-- it's impossible to leave the classroom not saturated with that. Their posturing, their laughter. Even their posing is so transparent, it's like honesty. I love them. I didn't realize how much I'd missed this.

I don't have any illusions about saving the world or anything. I'd like to set much smaller, more definite goals. To teach, to learn. Too general. Hm. To act with humility and kindness? Too quasi-spiritual. Lame. Okay. I guess this is where the objectives come in.