I have to read numbers tonight. It's already 11:01pm (number). I have had three(3) hours of sleep in the last seventeen(17) hours. I plan on getting four(4) more hours of sleep in the next nineteen (19) hours. Then maybe three(3) or four(4) more hours of sleep. Numbers (10) are my day job. Letters (5) are my night job. They are intricately linked. Dotted by bouts of sleep. So in twenty-four hours(24) I figure I get about seven(7) to nine(9) hours of sleep. From what I hear from others, no matter what you do...whether you are raising kids, writing, playing music, having grandkids, teaching, printmaking, nursing, going to college... you are getting about seven(7) to nine(9) hours of sleep, if not less. So I figure this is good. I am good with numbers and sleep. Numbers and life.
There are two(2) kids in Wyatt's class. He and a little girl he loves. She has been labelled LFMR, Low Functioning Mental Retardation in school. But Mom with her Masters in Special Education takes one(1) look at this little girl and tells me No, Shea, she is high functioning autistic. They have her wrong. But Wyatt, he loves her, he doesn't care what anyone calls her. He is so cool that way.
Shea, that is what love looks like. says Wyatt. No labels. No judgements.
Tonight the day job has slipped into the night job with it's numbers and it shows me how intricately linked numbers are to letters. These nights and these days when I have decided to stop caring how people tell me when I am supposed to sleep. I always call Mom, of course, and she approves so I figure numbers are letters, letters are numbers and I may as well get off my night job to do my day job right now. In my day job numbers write books. They turn into letters.
This is the capitalism of my life. I barter and trade for what I want.
I feel we have to believe what we believe. We can't help ourselves but to do so. Yet I think we should always question our truths.
How did you get so great, Thursday, you Friday's Eve you? I see you coming. It's 11:57pm. Nirvana is Nirvana.