I’m doing a lot of in-my-head thinking the past few days. Add to that, the whirl of everyday activity of nothingness actually that when added up consumes my entire day. The future is still a clean, blank slate for me. Having a clean, blank slate is exciting and scary at the same time. No one but myself to blame for decisions I make.
During this time, what keeps repeating in my head is Robert Frost’s poem. I never thought I’d think about Robert Frost ever. I mean, he was this long dead poet who I was required to read in English class by my teacher Miss Condon. Yes, that’s Condon with an “n” and not an “m”. She made sure we were clear on that the first day she wrote her name on the board. Come to think about it, it was cool that we had an American for our English class. She taught poetry and writing for a whole year and most of us were deathly scared of her because she spoke with an American twang and expected excellent papers.
Anyway, back to Robert Frost. Frost had this poem which I’m sure is familiar to most people who’ve had poetry class:
