Of Memory and Elephants

Yesterday I didn't go to school.  I was tired, my throat hurt, but mostly I was tired.  So I stayed home, slept forever and ever and ever, was taken care of by my beloved Mr. Owens who fed me ice cream and hot tea, and I read a book- a whole book- for the first time in forever.  The book was one of the free books from Grendel's store, and was 'The Circus in Winter'.  The setting is Lima Indiana, and the story is made of smaller stories that circle around the circus people during the winter off season- mainly in the 30's- but drifting back into the 1800's and ahead into the now.  The author echoes her real life in the stories- she grew up in a winter circus town and many of the characters are based around her family, in particular her great x 2 uncle that was killed by an elephant.

Elephants remember things, keep things to themselves, somehow have immense power, wisdom, gentleness and sadness rolled into one. Or at least that is what I have been told about elephants, having not known one personally- my experience is limited to zoos and circuses, a brief ride on one as a child and later when Grendel was a child, and the elephants that my Mother collects.  Trunk up for good luck, Ganesha (I have a painting and statue of him at school) is the elephant-headed god of luck and valor, elephants though are mainly out of my experience.  But, the book.  The book was not a 'jolly circus book' but a rather stark and grim retelling of how it was- the hard work, the tangled relationships, the tragedies and- of course- the magic.  I won't tell you all of it, or even recommend it for reading, for it disturbed me and kindled strange sad dreams, mostly about elephants.  What I can say though is that I fell briefly into another world for a while, and that was good- but now I am feeling the echos of discontent that come when you know that something bad happened long ago- and you can't do anything about it- but you are sad none-the-less. Books have the power to do that to you, television and movies you can cast aside- they stay for a bit but easily move on- but a well written passage in a book can stick in your heart like a thorn.  Elephants.

I think my overall tiredness from yesterday is an echo from Saturday and the testing.  I know that may seem strange, it being so many days ago, but this is how it went.  The tests went fine, I'm supposing.  It was morning, I was awake and 'on', the tasks suited to me for the most part- arranging blocks into patterns, drawing a complex shape then redrawing it from memory several times, memorizing lists of words (which was easy for they broke themselves into stories and pictures in my head.  Words are always easy).  Knowledge (who was Marie Currie? What is the theory of relativity? Are you kidding me?) , vocabulary (my usual- I knew what the majority of the words meant, but could not pronounce them correctly).  What tripped me up was sound (listening on headphones to many words said at once and differentiating between them), math (the fast reciprocal math bit), and... I think that is it.  Did great on the 'what is wrong with this picture' part.  Hours and hours of this testing.  I don't mind tests like this, and I wonder about their validity- I expect that most of this was easy for me simply because I am an artist and educator.  The common knowledge is kept in the forefront of my brain because I refer to it constantly, the patterns/drawing/pictures are all part of being an artist and what I do daily.  Words and vocabulary are always a pleasure- I have been a reader and played with words since I was very young.  If the test was geared towards the flip side of my brain- recognition of equations, memorization of strings of numbers (there was a part like that, but it was strictly short-term), things of that nature I would be lost.

What is curious is what happened *after* the test.  That afternoon I was out with Grendel, and sleepwalking through everything.  Sunday, a few bright moments that I spent grading- but naps and general malaise.  Monday at school was a nightmare- I couldn't wake up, I wasn't making sense when I was trying to teach, I finally gave up and just endured the day, and then my night class.  I decided Monday night that I had to have a day off and thus I called in.  I slept most of the day yesterday- waking to eat and drink, about an hour of work, reading the book and (Finally!) getting to watch Mr. Owens episode of Lizard Lick.  (He is awesome- hair flying, table flipping, mud wrestling....).  Then I slept some more.

Today I am up, after a night of elephant dreams and stray dogs.  The wind is howling outside, I feel better but still dreamy, not quite real.  What I should like to do is have a day to dream and paint, write some more. What I will do is put on my shoes and go to school, plan and grade and try to teach (I am going through a crisis that I am not a good art teacher.  I am a good *teacher*, but the art part? Not so much- I can do it, but I don't teach the technical things well at all- mainly because I don't care much about that part.)  Then a meeting and then home.  What next? I don't know.  Dreams of elephants.