Page 10 of Through Quick and Quinn
-Deck
Wednesday, November 9, 2022
Note to self:
I’m a few months into my sophomore year in high school, and I’m trying so hard to stay positive. I focus on gratitude, since that is what lends to joy: I appreciate that I am able to earn an education, that I am fortunate to attend a school with qualified teachers, that this opportunity will open doors for me in my future. I really am grateful. I just wish there was more of a focus on the individual student and more of a drive to inspire us. There are so many things I am curious about, but our classes are full of rigorous curriculum with little room for anything else. But not everyone is energized and motivated by language, math, history, or science. What about all of the things in between and beyond?
I was thinking today…I wouldn’t dread P.E. as much if I knew there was a unit on yoga. Why is it always running and soccer and volleyball and sit-ups? Don’t the powers that be know how strengthening yoga can be for the body? I understand why we can’t cater to every single person’s interests and desires, but I sure wish there was a way to mix it up a bit.
At the end of the day, though, my education is my own responsibility. Especially in this day and age when information is so readily available. I need to learn about my own interests in my own way. It’s not like school is the only time and place to learn! So, I am starting here by making a wish list.
I’d love to take classes on kundalini yoga and reiki.
I want to take field trips to the nearby mines and see how gems, metals, and crystals are extracted.
+ +h, I also want to explore my creative side a bit more by making things with my hands.
Oh, that’s a short list. I need to keep thinking and expand my horizons. I have no clue what I want to study in the future or what I want to be when I am older, but I do know I will figure that out with more and more experiences. I absolutely want to help people heal in some way, and for now, I will lean on that fact for inspiration. Inspiration should come from within, anyway, or at least for me. Maybe I should volunteer somewhere? Do some community service?
I feel better already.
…Q
+ + +
Hey,
Merry Christmas. Not that we really do that around here anymore.
Been spending my vacation catching up on digs, you know me. I came across some stuff on hidden technologies from the past, and I’m reading about how cars used to be fueled back in the day. I remember hearing somewhere about hydro powered cars, but what is this about cars being fueled by alcohol? Apparently, according to some of what I’m reading (but who knows what is really true), the emissions from alcohol-fueled cars are basically null. Which is good. And get this, the use of alcohol as fuel was supposedly starting to trend during the 1920s, you know, during the Prohibition. Sus. Then, in 1941, Ford came out with a car that was made of hemp, wheat, and other natural materials and, get this, was fueled by hemp or other farming waste. How did these technological options just come to a screeching halt? Makes me wonder…
I think I’ll be on this one for the remainder of the break. When I think about it, it is curious that we never found a cleaner way to fuel our cars. And I’m not talking about electric vehicles. I did a dig on that a while back and the amount of damage done to the earth for ONE unreliable battery is beyond my comprehension. Never mind what happens with them once the batteries die. Ridiculous.
Anyway. House feels empty. Always does.
Love you.
-Deck
Sunday, December 25, 2022
Note to self:
There are good days and bad days. It’s to be expected. And while I haven’t mastered it quite yet, I do work hard on appreciating the yucky days because if it weren’t for them, we wouldn’t really feel the weight of the good days.
Regardless, today was a bad day. And I’m trying to breathe through it. I’m trying to acknowledge, respect, and value what comes with days like these. I’m trying to embrace whatever lessons I should glean, to remind myself that for as much pain and loss, we are still so very blessed. But it’s hard. Today was just a rough day.
It’s bizarre. We never got to celebrate Christmas with Troy, but we so profoundly feel his absence on this day. I can see the tears behind my parents’ eyes, and every gift exchanged feels like it was wrapped in a layer of guilt. I don’t know for what, though. Guilt for moving on, even though we really haven’t and probably never will?
We did continue our tradition of making him ornaments, which felt nice. In years past, we’ve created everything from pinecone angels to stars made of pipe cleaners and fabric, and this year we tried something new: stamped clay. Our concentration levels made for an unusually silent craft time, and the heaviness of the quiet weighed on me throughout the rest of the afternoon and evening.
They say that everything is temporary. Bad days are temporary. It’s a bad day, not a bad life. To keep perspective, that this shall pass. But on days like today, I struggle with that. Troy’s death isn’t temporary. Our family dealing with a void isn’t temporary. I catch myself having these thoughts, and the deep breaths don’t help as much as they normally do.
But then I remind myself that living without Troy is indeed temporary.
I will see him again. I know he will be waiting for me, and in the meantime, I will try to appreciate the hard times because they make the great times feel even greater.
…Q
