darkskada

I spent this past week somewhere else, in a handful of other places.  One place welled up with thin poison, hazy air. I have written about it here: broken brown the weeds crack like bones

Five or six boxes languish at the top of my closet.  I have not unpacked them since I moved here, two years ago.  Sometimes I look at them, or even go through them, but I never unpack them. The last time I fully unpacked my life, I was 17.  I lived with my family in a two-bedroom house on Elmendorf AFB in Alaska.  One room, just for me, and no boxes anywhere.  My parents kicked me out when I was 18 for "blatant insubordination," because I refused to go to my room: my first act of direct disobedience since early childhood. This prompted the following moves: #1. My parent's house on Elmendorf AFB, Alaska. (2002) #2. Chris' apartment in Anch

Solstice time again, and I've neglected all of this for a year, it seems.  Amazingly, in my transient life, not much has changed. I'm still living in the same small, one-bedroom apartment in San Antonio.  I'm still taking classes at UTSA.  And I'm still working at the Writing Center as a writing tutor. I still have four cats and I still play RO, although now I play on an awesome new server: Oro?. At the moment, I spent most of my time playing on Oro?, studying for my five classes, tutoring students, knitting scarves and hats, or hanging out with my partner.  Who lives with me now. During the spring of 2007, I took a poetry workshop class