Mom joke. "Bryan, have you ever smelled moth balls?"
Uh, yes. Mom. Why?
"But how'd you get their little legs apart?"
I have not yet identified the little guy who came banging on my porch screen last night as I was grading graduate projects and working on tonight's class. He was frustrated, however, that he couldn't get to the light inside....moths to the flame and the story of my life.
Many a therapist, tarot reader, witch, and friend has made the analogy of my life and those moths to the flame. As I've aged, I've gotten better at keeping clingy, aggressive, and overly psychotic people away from my life (boundaries), but I still remain fascinated by the metaphor, the entomology, and the nightly workings of moths. They fascinate me and have fascinated me since I was a little boy. Yes, I was the type of kid who turned on the back light and studied the evening bugs that gathered. And, I still do this. Insects are mesmerizing, and if you happen to see a lunar moth you'll thank the Great Whatever that you're a weirdo, too, and you turn on porch lights for fun.
Actually, as this guy visited last night (hula hooped him), I remembered a short story I wrote in the early 2000s called "Moth." It was about a kid who couldn't help destroying himself through his bad choices -- a conglomeration of the many students I've taught over the years. I used to teach it to my students, but haven't revisited the story in numerous years. I think I'd like to pull it out and re-examine it. Put it under the porch light, if you will. There are so many moth-kids out there.
The next forty-eight hours are heavy-teaching days, and we're creeping up on the National Day on Writing, which is always a lot of work. I'm excited I've maintained my I Was a Kid - inspired doodling and am not sure I'll have the energy in me (or time) to be so creative as all this rolls out over the next couple of days. Still, I've fallen in love with visual brainstorming on my digital notebook before pushing my thoughts into words for this morning blog. I've always known I'm a visual learner, and I do think in images. It's been fascinating to transition from composition book to a screen.
A moth led to lightbulbs led to Godzilla led to Twins led to Mothra led to Mothball joke led to memories of bugs and kids.
Speaking of twins, Abut and Lossine celebrate birthdays on The National Day of Writing. The Godzilla twins reminded me. That's the reason these prompts and journals are important. How do we know what we know if we're not committing our ideas to page? Reflecting? Rambling?