Still awake — the natural consequence of having taken too long a nap in the afternoon and having stayed up too late finishing a book. I've tried several times to fall asleep and all I do is lay in the dark, thoughts bubbling up out of my head (my stomach? Sometimes it feels that way).
I worry about a lot of things, probably (definitely) more than I should. Right now, all I can think of is the ending I am quickly drawing to, and the beginning of something new that will be even more difficult because of all the changes it will bring.
I worry that as the summer draws to a close, I won't finish my products properly or in time; that I'll leave with regrets from not having done this or that; that I'll leave without any more confidence in myself than I arrived with.
I worry that as the new school year starts, I'll be too busy to study properly, or well; that I won't be able to handle my new schedule; that I'll miss Tom too much.
Well, I know for a fact that I'll miss Tom too much. It's no secret to confess that our impending separation (he will soon be much more than a few hours' drive away) has worn a little knot in the pit of my stomach. I don't worry about us; I worry about me. Is that wrong? I try to deal the best I can with his absence, and I admit that I've gotten better at it, even though I'm far from perfect. I've spoken to a number of people this summer who are even married and separated from their spouses. Does it get easier? Will it be OK?
No doubt I can blame these semi-coherent, post-midnight ramblings on the sticky half of a cinnamon bun that I ate for dessert. Late nights always put me in a pensive mood. I just need to stop worrying, I guess. Though I've told myself that many times, and never with much success.
This has been a very long post, and for that I apologize (to the few people who read/care). But I guess that's what this blog is all about — it serves as a catch-all for what I'm feeling, or fearing, or looking forward to. And thank goodness, because otherwise all this would still be roaming around my mind, large thoughts inside a small head. Maybe now it will be easier to fall asleep.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
So here's the thing
The summer is almost over. Done. Kaput. Finito!
Remind me again how that happened? I feel like just six blog posts ago it was the beginning of the summer. Oh. Wait.
Things to do:
-interview/job crap
-packing crap
-saying goodbye (always is awful)
-haircut (might be awful)
And various other end-of-summer things, including project wrap-up at work. Blech. I like to work on projects. I just don't like to work on projects when I know I'm going to have to start wrapping up those projects.
The single redemptive feature of these next few weeks: Tom comes to visit. YES!
Remind me again how that happened? I feel like just six blog posts ago it was the beginning of the summer. Oh. Wait.
Things to do:
-interview/job crap
-packing crap
-saying goodbye (always is awful)
-haircut (might be awful)
And various other end-of-summer things, including project wrap-up at work. Blech. I like to work on projects. I just don't like to work on projects when I know I'm going to have to start wrapping up those projects.
The single redemptive feature of these next few weeks: Tom comes to visit. YES!
Friday, July 11, 2008
Friday, July 04, 2008
Independence Day
My parents came back from vacation yesterday and the only thing on my dad's mind: buy fireworks.
"Dad," I said. "You can get them at Wal-Mart."
"Not if you want the really good ones," he insisted. "You gotta go to the tent." Recently, white tents have popped up, mushroom-like, in parking lots and vacant fields all over the city, with names like Big Daddy Fireworks and an ever-present stream of customers coming in and going out, their arms filled with explosives. On the way back from the airport he pulled over to the first tent he saw, and left my mom and me in the car talking about Pride & Prejudice while he browsed for pyrotechnics. He came back with a giant white box called "The King." "I got a variety," he said. "I can't tell what all that stuff in there is."
Tonight he donned safety glasses and a headlamp (where he got it from, I have no idea) and lit about a dozen fireworks out in the cul-de-sac. My mom and I observed from a safe distance, holding on to our lame sparklers while my dad lit the big stuff and then ran for cover. He was like a little kid again and I can't say it wasn't the most fun I've had on a Fourth of July in a long time, watching him kneel down to light the fuses and then tear back toward the house, his headlamp bobbing while bright pinwheels sparked behind him. Some neighbors down the street were lighting fireworks too, big green ones that whistled into the air and sprouted like giant palms. A couple houses down, a bunch of kids and adults spilled out onto their porch and watched my dad work his incendiary magic, cheering at even the dinky little ones and letting out a disappointed "Awwwwww" when my dad announced the last one.
Afterward we doused the cardboard containers, just in case, and then swept them all into the trashbin. We used all the fireworks he'd bought, except for the "really big ones," he said, that we couldn't light because there were "too many houses." The law student in me let out a big sigh when he decided not to go for the gusto. The kid in me still wants to see those suckers explode. Maybe next year.
Happy fourth, everyone.
"Dad," I said. "You can get them at Wal-Mart."
"Not if you want the really good ones," he insisted. "You gotta go to the tent." Recently, white tents have popped up, mushroom-like, in parking lots and vacant fields all over the city, with names like Big Daddy Fireworks and an ever-present stream of customers coming in and going out, their arms filled with explosives. On the way back from the airport he pulled over to the first tent he saw, and left my mom and me in the car talking about Pride & Prejudice while he browsed for pyrotechnics. He came back with a giant white box called "The King." "I got a variety," he said. "I can't tell what all that stuff in there is."
Tonight he donned safety glasses and a headlamp (where he got it from, I have no idea) and lit about a dozen fireworks out in the cul-de-sac. My mom and I observed from a safe distance, holding on to our lame sparklers while my dad lit the big stuff and then ran for cover. He was like a little kid again and I can't say it wasn't the most fun I've had on a Fourth of July in a long time, watching him kneel down to light the fuses and then tear back toward the house, his headlamp bobbing while bright pinwheels sparked behind him. Some neighbors down the street were lighting fireworks too, big green ones that whistled into the air and sprouted like giant palms. A couple houses down, a bunch of kids and adults spilled out onto their porch and watched my dad work his incendiary magic, cheering at even the dinky little ones and letting out a disappointed "Awwwwww" when my dad announced the last one.
Afterward we doused the cardboard containers, just in case, and then swept them all into the trashbin. We used all the fireworks he'd bought, except for the "really big ones," he said, that we couldn't light because there were "too many houses." The law student in me let out a big sigh when he decided not to go for the gusto. The kid in me still wants to see those suckers explode. Maybe next year.
Happy fourth, everyone.
Thursday, July 03, 2008
The shortest long week...longest short week?
Exhaustamafied. This weekend I have no plans for the Fourth of July except I must. see. Wall-E. No joke, my urge to watch this movie has reached critical mass; the only thing that stopped me from going to see it alone this week was waiting for my sister who will also love it, I know.
Doggies = not as fun as when they lived with me. Don't ask me why.
Next weekend I'm going to Chicago to see the girls; it will be such a nice break and I can't wait to see them and do many many fun things, including, but not limited to, shoppingeatingdancingjumpingaroundsightseeing. HOORAY!
Doggies = not as fun as when they lived with me. Don't ask me why.
Next weekend I'm going to Chicago to see the girls; it will be such a nice break and I can't wait to see them and do many many fun things, including, but not limited to, shoppingeatingdancingjumpingaroundsightseeing. HOORAY!
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
Catch and release
Weekly softball has been surprisingly fun. Especially considering that I. SUCK. at softball.
I cannot catch. Nor can I release the ball when I'm throwing at the right point for it not to plow into the ground six feet in front of me.
The only thing I am semi-decent at is batting. The only trouble is that I have no strength in my arms, so one of three things happens:
1) I hit a slow grounder, someone scoops it up, I'm out at first.
2) I hit a soft, graceful lob, someone catches it, I'm out.
3) I hit the ball, it falls to the ground, I run like heck, and I get to first. Miracle.
I think that in order to get better at softball, I need to learn how to a) throw and b) catch. I am, however, too lazy to practice, and I also do not own a softball. Therefore I will neither throw nor catch and instead, will simply chase after the ball in a completely undignified way when it bounces out of my glove.
I cannot catch. Nor can I release the ball when I'm throwing at the right point for it not to plow into the ground six feet in front of me.
The only thing I am semi-decent at is batting. The only trouble is that I have no strength in my arms, so one of three things happens:
1) I hit a slow grounder, someone scoops it up, I'm out at first.
2) I hit a soft, graceful lob, someone catches it, I'm out.
3) I hit the ball, it falls to the ground, I run like heck, and I get to first. Miracle.
I think that in order to get better at softball, I need to learn how to a) throw and b) catch. I am, however, too lazy to practice, and I also do not own a softball. Therefore I will neither throw nor catch and instead, will simply chase after the ball in a completely undignified way when it bounces out of my glove.
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