What a strange stretch of days it’s been. One that started for me, on a personal level, on Monday morning when I first read the e-mail about Amanda’s death. The note was sent out by my Craft of Fiction teacher –a close friend of Amanda’s – and I had to read it about three times before I realized that she was writing us about the same Amanda Davis that I knew and before I realized that yes, Amanda really was dead.
I sat there – my hand to my mouth in shock – and looked around the room at work. Everything was continuing as if it were just another normal day. People were typing and talking and laughing and gossiping and planning and working and thinking and just being.
And that’s sort of how it feels today. We’re “officially” at war with Iraq (please don’t argue with over the semantics of this – you get my point) and the world is continuing on its own strange way.
It’s sunny outside with clouds.
I have work to do, deadlines to meet. Things to organize, places to be, bills to pay, ideas to put in motion.
The televisions at work are tuned into CNN nonstop – except for those last few minutes of a college basketball playoff game. People are typing and talking and laughing and gossiping and planning and working and thinking and just being.
Life. Death. It all just blurs – and bleeds – together in a never-ending circle of confusion.