blood and water

My thin notebook paper was awash in red slashes; each vindictive ink furrow reminiscent of a bitter line of crimson blood. Alas, the beating that produced these stains had nothing to do with sins or slavery, or even vainglorious cruel hatred.

These *minacious carvings were instructive in nature and were dolled out by the all-knowing hand of my LSAT tutor. His strategy was one of ridicule mixed with consolation, as if the juxtaposition of expressed condemnation and affirmation would prove (like the Hegelian thesis and antithesis) to bring about a sort of dialectical emotive synergy. Really it just made me feel like a fool.

But that was on Monday; humility reinforced (yes indeed, and this time clung to as a shield) I returned again ready for more blood-red scratches. Yet, somehow synergy must have occured as my wounds slaked up their salve, for tonight’s session didn’t hurt. Maybe I’m learning how to stay on the path and avoid the thorns. But I hear there’s a bend in the road…

* Today’s post requires a dictionary.