Yes, I still go to the prom. I work at a high school, so I get an invitation every year. Some years I have to help, so it's required. This year I went of my own free will.

I worked my second job and came home to a nice long soak in the tub. I put on a nice black dress and prepared for the evening. Master and I talked online before I left. I was missing him, missing interaction. He is always with me in spirit. He told me he talks to me all the time. I just need to listen more. I admit, I am having trouble accomplishing this. I hope he can teach me more about it.

Anyway, I knew Master would want me to go to the prom, take him with me in my heart and have a good time. So off to school I went. I enjoyed seeing the kids all dressed up. I loved seeing their individuality come in out the formal clothes they chose to wear. I had wanted to look good in my black dress, but I couldn't hold a candle to the pretty young girls in their formal gowns. But perhaps that was okay. It was their night, not mine.

The theme was Arabian Nights. Recently the school had had to work hard to make the gym look nice with a limited amount of funds. Those in charge had some wonderful ideas. Music from the film Aladdin floated through the room. Three freshmen boys dressed up as genies. Two of them pulled the curtains open as each couple made their entrance. The third boy was painted blue. That's right, blue, like the genie voiced by Robin Williams in the movie. This boy sat up in a podium-likebox. He was a big hit!

After the Grand March, where the kids in their finest paraded in front of everyone, we sat down to eat. I sat near the other Spanish teacher and her husband, the discovery teacher (Talented and Gifted program), the superintendent and his wife, and a school board member and his wife. We enjoyed decent food (okay, it wasn't steak or lobster; we didn't have the budget for that!) and conversation. We discussed the original purpose of prom, the superintendent's early teaching days, what my graduating son's plans for the future are and Pakistani weddings,among other things.

As the DJ played "Wind Beneath My Wings", I felt especially close to Master. I don't know if he is the wind beneath my wings, or I his. In truth, I suspect we are for each other. At any rate, Master, in my mind this is the song we danced to.

Thank you, Master, for assigning me to write about this. It has helped me to focus on the beauty of the evening and has heightened my enjoyment of it.

My youngest son M is a 7th grader. He is out for track. I will admit, I pushed him to try it for a year. I pushed hard.

They had their first track meet Friday night. Two others had been scheduled earlier but were canceled due to weather. M was nervous. Try terrified. He had to run 100 meters (he knew he could do that) and 400 meters (he wasn’t so sure about that one). When I got to the track meet, he told me he felt sick and had been throwing up. I told him it was just nerves, but he was not convinced. I think he was hoping I would allow him to back out. I did not. I talked to the coaches so they knew what was going on, but we all agreed he should run.

M was afraid. The only way to conquer his fear was to face it. As his mother I would like to hold him and make everything all right, but I could not. The best I could do was force him to face what he did not want to face.

M was in the fastest heat of both the 100 and the 400. He came in a dismal last in both of them.

I wish he had been in the second heats, where he would have “looked” better. I am not concerned with him winning, mind you, I am only concerned with his attitude. I guess I worry about him giving up or developing a poor attitude. Yet, I want him to feel a measure of success. He doesn’t have to win. I was glad he finished his race, especially the 400. But I know he didn’t feel successful.

Yes, I pushed him into it. I don’t regret that. But now he has tried it. Next year, I will leave it up to him and back off.

I wish Master were here to advise me.

Hotpenning is a technique of simply putting pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard) and writing. Whatever comes out, comes out. I’ve have heard of it used for therapy--it allows the emotions to flow, and sometimes the person writes about traumatic experiences. It functions as a release valve of sorts.

I have also heard of it used in writing. I believe it is used sometimes to let ideas flow. Sometimes you can find tidbits of things to write about.

I wasn’t sure what to write about today. I usually try to write ahead of time. Last night I was very tired. WWBD? Although I had some ideas, I decided Bennet would want me to rest and work on them when I was not so tired. He would want me to do my best on those things I choose to write about. I went to bed.

So, I save those ideas for another time, and am hotpenning at 6:17 am. I am trying to look at what I am writing this morning. I refuse to rant. I refuse to write and post things that will displease my Master.

Ray Bradbury said that 85% of you you write it crap. Well, perhaps today is part of my 85%. But Master requires that I post everyday, so here is today’s post.

I just realized something. Due to some scheduling things, I don’t have to be at different job sites this week. In order to save on gas, I plan to stay put. I realize that WWBD is becoming pretty internalized. I am doing it without having to think to myself: What Would Bennet Do?

It’s good that it’s becoming second nature, or rather, first nature for me to do that. I am learning and becoming what Master wants me to be, to serve him best.

The news the last couple of days has been dominated by the reports of the school shooting in Virginia. I first saw it as “breaking news” on the cnn website. I was not shocked. I was not riveted to the news, soaking in all of the information.

Even I was somewhat surprised at my (lack of) reaction. I work in a school. My children go to school, and my oldest will be headed to college next year. I have been in on meetings about safety procedures and have worried about my own kids.

I suppose we could put in more security. We could have (more) police officers in school, more metal detectors. But the truth is, there is only so much we can do. I have always said I will not work in a school that needs metal detectors. If someone is determined to wreak havoc and propagate violence, there is no guarantee we can stop them. Despite the best efforts of authorities, some are bound to slip through.

As Master Bennet has said, these are acts of terrorism. The sad thing is, they seem to have no purpose. What is the goal of killing 32 others and then yourself? What is accomplished? I don’t think anyone could ever explain it to me in a way that would make sense. Is there a cause? It is like a war zone, but it is the perpetrator’s own private war that innocents somehow get pulled into.

Like it or not, this is the world we live in. There have always been senseless tragedies: natural disasters, terrible accidents. Now we must add bursts of meaningless violence targeting blameless people.

I wish I had an answer to this. I do not. All I can think to do is to live life day to day and enjoy it. I do the best I can do and trust that things will turn out the way they are supposed to.