Monday, January 4, 2010


Two three-day weekends in a row, including a trip to Connecticut, cookie-baking, knitting, reading, playing music, playing video-games, movie watching, and basic all-around lounging has made me loathe to return to my routine. Over Christmas, I spend hours sitting in the little wooden New English nook with the china cabinets in Derek's parents' house reading and playing guitar, the house silent, with snow falling outside. That night while Derek made pizza, his mom showed me how to play XBox and I spent hours happily creating a world for my magical orphan girl in Fable. I felt completely relaxed, like a kid. The whole day was my playground. I was just having fun, without worrying about what I should have been doing. I realized it has been so long since I've felt like that.

My one New Year's Goal (I don't like resolutions) from last year was to play the guitar more, and I definitely accomplished it. This year, I think I'll add to my existing list:

1: Read more.
2: Hang out more with writer friends.
3: Take more time that is really for you.

All of these, of course, involve time, and it's something that seems to be leeched away from me more and more. I remember back in Indiana, whole weekends of reading, of walking to the bookstore as the sun sets and snow falls just to get out of the house, maybe wandering off to a bar or the neighborhood pizza place or Caleb's house to meet with friends, but basically bored crumbless. I remember waiting for that one big night that would come once a month or so. The big concert, a friend's party, a play. Some reason to get dolled up and live and be young.

I imagined life on the coast in the city would be so exciting, and it is. But sometimes I get nostalgic for those long, internal days. Those long walks that don't go anywhere. Trips to the woods or the Zen Center or the Art Museum because there's nothing better to do and you don't have to be anywhere until late. You discover something about yourself and the simplicity of the world when you live like that. As hard as I try to hold on to that knowledge here, I know little by little it's being buried by calendars, cameras, appearances, parties, and endless nights.

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