I Know Who I Am

Today was one of those days when everything just fits. I woke up late enough to recover from last night, left the building with ten minutes to get all the way to the Benson, and made it. Arabic class did not confuse me for once, I was alert and answered several questions about conjugation in fusHa. I dominated the speaking appointment afterwards even though my partner is in 301. My vegetable stew is even better reheated, though the greenhouse tomatoes look like they have never been cooked, much less simmered for hours, and this is disturbing.
Blue bled through the clouds.
Back in my room, I managed to create a semi-coherent essay about my writing process in an hour and a half and, in class, got the exact person I wanted to conference with. His essay is much better, with an extended metaphor throughout comparing his writing process to the process of evolution. I discovered someone from Lit is also in English Linguistics; I finished my Visiting Teaching; I found out that I really did not have to supervise this month. Tonight I finally called my mother and I recorded a good copy of "Mad World". Today was one of those days when all my thoughts come together. Whence or when or where or what I am or was or ever will be does not matter because I know who I am. I am the lone figure on the flat blue sand when the moon is larger than the night. I am white cotton and black silk. I am sharp cinnamon and sweet garlic and bitter cacao. I am a wordsmith. I am a belovèd daughter of God and I am a sister to all. I am wide brown eyes. I am a critic. I am an enabler. I am a razor tongue so quick that the pain comes days after the blood has stopped. I am a dreamer. I am a realist. I am Beth.