So I was out on the balcony again. I'm not used to the whole "apartment thing," so I was feeling couped up and needing space. And today was PERFECT. So it was windy, yadda yadda yadda. I went out there and called Allison (the best friend) and talked for almost an hour. Then I read Mansfield Park (woot for J.A.) for a couple more hours. Did the elliptical for the usual 20 min/day, while watching High Fidelity. Ate dinner. Watched mom do Tracy's hair. Said bye to mom. Went back out on balcony in the middle of the night. It was PERFECT.
The moon was perfect, the breeze was perfect... granted the view is of other apartment buildings... but aside from that it was the most content I've felt in ages. AGES, mind you.
I know it's not quite the same as running (or the elliptical, which is better than running, or TENNIS, which is the absolute greatest sport of all-time... ok, that MAY be debatable with baseball, but only if the Sox are playing) but regardless, I was actually OUTSIDE... WITH A BOOK... ALONE. I can't remember the last time that's happened. It was really nice.
I guess that's all I can really think of to say today. Just overall very content with life right now. Happy may be too strong of a word-- happy would be me outside on a balcony in OXFORD-- but content is good for now. And that's all I'm asking for right now.
So good night for now.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Oh no oh no oh no
Where to start, where to start.
Been kind of busy around here, getting ready to put the house on the market again. The prospect of moving has always been exciting to me, but the whole process is perhaps one of the most complicated systems I have ever been involved in. Packing and sorting and then un-packing and re-sorting and cleaning and cleaning and cleaning like crazy. It's very hard to get used to when you live in as cluttered and as unorganized as an environment as my bedroom. Now I have to decide what's more important to me-- old essays on the Gin Act, or my preschool finger paintings?-- unread books, or unused CD's?-- blank notebooks (in case I need them) or fully-used notebooks with notes from other classes (in case I need them)? It's all far too confusing for my simple mind.
On a less-complicated note, I am going to the Sox game on Monday; and quite honestly, what could possibly be less-complicated than watching baseball while surrounded by thousands of beer-crazed and highly volatile south-siders? I can't think of a thing.
Let's see, I guess I should mention something about the week in general. In retrospect, it ended far better than I thought it would. The out-pouring of tasks and assignments that started on Tuesday seemed to either fizzle out or lose momentum by Thursday. Things that seemed like mountainous tasks now strike me as being no more worry-worthy than an anthill. Which may or may not be a good thing; "may" in the sense that I am not currently feeling stressed out, "may not" in the sense that this sense of calm may be quickly dissipated by a torrential downpour of reality that will hit Monday night. But I don't intend on leaving everything until the night before! In fact, I think this Sox game will be very good in that it will motivate me to get everything done ahead of time. Which means that Monday night I'll be lying in bed, unable to fall asleep for fear that I have forgotten to do some major, life-altering assignment which has escaped my assignment calendar AND my memory.
I'm very excited at the prospect of writing my research paper for the learning community conference. Call me a masochist if you want, but analytical thought-processes and 9-page dissertations on Jane Austen and Virginia Woolf excite me to no end. Which is funny, (not just b/c, to someone other than myself, the whole idea seems completely diabolical) b/c lately I've been wondering whether or not I should pursue an English major. It's not that I've lost interest in the subject-- goodness knows I still get giddy at the thought of flipping through my post-it marked pages of Mrs. Dalloway tomorrow morning-- but it's that I think some of my other interests that I've been ignoring are starting to catch up with me. I guess what I'm really referring to is singing.
Gosh, it seems like forever since I last sang. Ok, well not really forever-- I was just singing boisterously in the car for a full 1/2 hr, after which proceeding to plug in my iPod and start singing again. But I mean REALLY sing-- pouring it all for an audience to either take in or leave behind. I can't get over how much vocal performance was a part of my life, and then suddenly and entirely dropped out of view. It's like the entire time I was professing my love for English literature and the idea of studying abroad, I completely forgot about that other part of who I am that revolves solely around music. This may seem kind of random, but I suppose it makes sense-- probably about a week ago my dad took out and played his guitar for the first time in about six months, and singing with him and my family just made me remember so much, and wonder if it's not too late before everything gets forgotten in a flurry of Keats and Dickens and Austen or whatever else. I just got my petition for graduation today from my adviser. I still have the summer and fall semesters ahead of me, but I'm scared half to death that I'm going to move forward and leave this all behind. If I give up singing for English, am I going to lose a part of me?
Well, that seems like far too complicated of a question to answer in one sitting. I suppose I'll have to mull over my decisions when it actually comes time to making them. For now, I just need to feel my pillow against my head. Good night.
Been kind of busy around here, getting ready to put the house on the market again. The prospect of moving has always been exciting to me, but the whole process is perhaps one of the most complicated systems I have ever been involved in. Packing and sorting and then un-packing and re-sorting and cleaning and cleaning and cleaning like crazy. It's very hard to get used to when you live in as cluttered and as unorganized as an environment as my bedroom. Now I have to decide what's more important to me-- old essays on the Gin Act, or my preschool finger paintings?-- unread books, or unused CD's?-- blank notebooks (in case I need them) or fully-used notebooks with notes from other classes (in case I need them)? It's all far too confusing for my simple mind.
On a less-complicated note, I am going to the Sox game on Monday; and quite honestly, what could possibly be less-complicated than watching baseball while surrounded by thousands of beer-crazed and highly volatile south-siders? I can't think of a thing.
Let's see, I guess I should mention something about the week in general. In retrospect, it ended far better than I thought it would. The out-pouring of tasks and assignments that started on Tuesday seemed to either fizzle out or lose momentum by Thursday. Things that seemed like mountainous tasks now strike me as being no more worry-worthy than an anthill. Which may or may not be a good thing; "may" in the sense that I am not currently feeling stressed out, "may not" in the sense that this sense of calm may be quickly dissipated by a torrential downpour of reality that will hit Monday night. But I don't intend on leaving everything until the night before! In fact, I think this Sox game will be very good in that it will motivate me to get everything done ahead of time. Which means that Monday night I'll be lying in bed, unable to fall asleep for fear that I have forgotten to do some major, life-altering assignment which has escaped my assignment calendar AND my memory.
I'm very excited at the prospect of writing my research paper for the learning community conference. Call me a masochist if you want, but analytical thought-processes and 9-page dissertations on Jane Austen and Virginia Woolf excite me to no end. Which is funny, (not just b/c, to someone other than myself, the whole idea seems completely diabolical) b/c lately I've been wondering whether or not I should pursue an English major. It's not that I've lost interest in the subject-- goodness knows I still get giddy at the thought of flipping through my post-it marked pages of Mrs. Dalloway tomorrow morning-- but it's that I think some of my other interests that I've been ignoring are starting to catch up with me. I guess what I'm really referring to is singing.
Gosh, it seems like forever since I last sang. Ok, well not really forever-- I was just singing boisterously in the car for a full 1/2 hr, after which proceeding to plug in my iPod and start singing again. But I mean REALLY sing-- pouring it all for an audience to either take in or leave behind. I can't get over how much vocal performance was a part of my life, and then suddenly and entirely dropped out of view. It's like the entire time I was professing my love for English literature and the idea of studying abroad, I completely forgot about that other part of who I am that revolves solely around music. This may seem kind of random, but I suppose it makes sense-- probably about a week ago my dad took out and played his guitar for the first time in about six months, and singing with him and my family just made me remember so much, and wonder if it's not too late before everything gets forgotten in a flurry of Keats and Dickens and Austen or whatever else. I just got my petition for graduation today from my adviser. I still have the summer and fall semesters ahead of me, but I'm scared half to death that I'm going to move forward and leave this all behind. If I give up singing for English, am I going to lose a part of me?
Well, that seems like far too complicated of a question to answer in one sitting. I suppose I'll have to mull over my decisions when it actually comes time to making them. For now, I just need to feel my pillow against my head. Good night.
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