Why not celebrate your bad day?
Here is one poem from Lucille Clifton poem, “ won’t you celebrate with me ,”that I just read it from a website: won’t you celebrate with me what i have shaped into a kind of life? i had no model. born in babylon both nonwhite and woman what did i see to be except myself? i made it up here on this bridge between starshine and clay, my one hand holding tight my other hand; come celebrate with me that everyday something has tried to kill me and has failed. How strong the punch was hit on my heart after reading it. Tears soon followed. The poem reminded me that around these two months. I was struggling in “looking for everything” including looking for new place, new social group, new weekend job except the editor. And frineds around me somehow even ask me to “look for “ a boyfriend. I know they were just joking but you know when your heart is weak, anything small could stuck your mind and breath. At the time, I started to complained and doubted my ability or personality because
