Gold Day. Formerly A Day. Day 25.

The world is filled with small broken things. We throw them into drawers and we intend to fix them or find a way to use them. But they stay alone in the dark in a drawer with all of the other small broken things, and no two things in the drawer ever fit together and they remain solitary in their crowd. Small broken things have stories, but mostly they just want to speak of how they were broken, and secondly how they were forgotten in a drawer. Not all of them have blogs.

I'll be brief about the school day because it was filled with children and noise and uncomfortable silences.

AP Gov. and Politics learned about a test that's coming up. I honestly didn't feel first hour. It's not them it's me. I have so much to say and yet the energy is so low I eventually find myself drifting away like a jellyfish that dreamed of being a shark. The lesson was on Federalism (I'll get back to this) and it was a review. Basically the Federalists wanted a stronger central government at the expense of freedom and they wrote a bunch of papers laying out the blueprint for this, then codified it in the Constitution. The Anti-Federalists thought very much the opposite because they wanted to have more freedom and a weaker government allows this. By 4th period the lesson was gelling a little better. The class decided that the ideals of the anti's were all good, but humanity as a whole was too stupid to achieve such freedoms. Imagine making traffic lights optional in the name of freedom. And that basically summed up that lesson. I was asked by a troubled, wayward student why I loved federalism. I really don't necessarily , but it's my job to teach it. So prepare for a future poem called "Ode to Federalism", or something to that effect. This will take time.

U.S. History Honors asked me if ghosts were real, and if they ever became ghosts could they spy on their posterity? Also, are their ancestors watching them now? I guess the answer is yes. I've watched Mulan. That is all the answer I need. We also solved Middle East peace. You're welcome. Hopefully someone wrote down the solution because I can't remember it off the top of my head.

The rest of the blog is dedicated to the rebuilding of my humanity after a day trapped in the shrieking horror box that is the 900 building. I call this, an afternoon walk in my neighborhood with Sybil and the remarkable return home.

We start our journey...

We encounter enemies...

More enemies...

A flower, fallen, beautiful but doomed...

Mushrooms...alive for a day. They are as beautiful as their life is brief.

My neighbors do not know how to use rubbish bins. This makes me sad and is also a good argument for federalism.

An empty playground. Everyone is home playing Fortnite. Kids are the worst.

This judgmental cat. It just stared at Sybil while she was in a very compromising situation. That cat is creepy.

When I came home I took this American Express bill from the mailbox. Here it is on my dining room table in my house. Not only is it a bill it is damp and unreadable. Like my soul.