Bozo Takes On A Burden

It’s not the events in my life that exhaust me as much as my indecision about those events. The events pass. My indecision lingers.

When I was a kid, I had one of those Bozo punching bags. You know, hit bozo in the nose, he falls over, hits the floor and comes right back up. Punch him again. It was a lot of fun. But now I see it from Bozo’s perspective. . . My one-on-one teacher says something to me for the 9th time and I can’t remember what it means. Bam! I hit the floor and right back up. My classmates draw straws for who will have the conversation with me this time. Bam! I hit the floor and right back up. The teacher corrects every single one of my tones as wrong. Bam! I hit the floor and right back up. Yesterday, I hit hard and wasn’t so sure I wanted to get up again. And indecision was off and running. Continue language study versus drop out and explore the city. A million factors to be weighed, balanced and recalculated. What it means for the future, what it means for the past. Will that magic moment of comprehension ever happen? What if it doesn’t? How I will feel one way? How will I feel the other? On.. and on ... I was beat – leaking air, down for the count.

This morning, my one-on-one teacher said something to me, and I understood it right away. Bozo’s back up again.