It’s been far too long
The obligatory apology and promises:
I owe this journal posts and photos and stories about far-away places. Put the more time that passes, the more all of this builds up and I feel like I can’t write about anything. I never have the photos I need to upload at work, so my whole Scotland report is a different one altogether – one that deserves time and attention and not to be minimizing the screen everytime my boss comes over to lean on my desk. I leave that for when I report my weekend activities. But. Ah. The other stuff - Soon. Very soon. I promise. Helena, I promise. I promise.
Sometimes it is just important to have some things said instead of none of the things.
This weekend was Martin Luther King Day. In my mind I tried to squish up all of the hours of service into one mass, like a rubber band ball, so that I wouldn’t feel badly using this day I’m supposed to dedicate to service, instead dedicated to lounging around and having a snowball fight with socks instead of snowballs.
I got to see Jessica Gunnell and share two tiny, tiny cupcakes and talk to loudly about sex on the front patio of a bar. I got to see Nic and Audie and watch the bloodiest, most incongruent horror film. I got to see that big shoulder I’ve been telling you so much about. Also, I took baths in lavender.
I was proud of myself for driving in Manhattan and not freaking out like everyone assumes an out-of-state woman would do. I had this smug grin and a little swagger when I locked the car: beep-beep…and then subsequently realized I parked many, many blocks from where I was supposed to be.
The Shoulder works all day Saturday and all day Sunday and I have keys to pretend it’s me who lives in an efficiency on the fourth floor of the east side. They keys jingle in my hand I as I pretend that I unlock this door daily, like it is second nature. I have to put my bags of bottled water, cashews and shampoo down on the sidewalk. Jingle. Jingle. The slow swirl of the barber’s poll sees my secret and peels up and down a little wiser than he was.
Today I’m too tired to be at work and I’m drinking ginger tea, which stings my tongue.
I owe this journal posts and photos and stories about far-away places. Put the more time that passes, the more all of this builds up and I feel like I can’t write about anything. I never have the photos I need to upload at work, so my whole Scotland report is a different one altogether – one that deserves time and attention and not to be minimizing the screen everytime my boss comes over to lean on my desk. I leave that for when I report my weekend activities. But. Ah. The other stuff - Soon. Very soon. I promise. Helena, I promise. I promise.
Sometimes it is just important to have some things said instead of none of the things.
This weekend was Martin Luther King Day. In my mind I tried to squish up all of the hours of service into one mass, like a rubber band ball, so that I wouldn’t feel badly using this day I’m supposed to dedicate to service, instead dedicated to lounging around and having a snowball fight with socks instead of snowballs.
I got to see Jessica Gunnell and share two tiny, tiny cupcakes and talk to loudly about sex on the front patio of a bar. I got to see Nic and Audie and watch the bloodiest, most incongruent horror film. I got to see that big shoulder I’ve been telling you so much about. Also, I took baths in lavender.
I was proud of myself for driving in Manhattan and not freaking out like everyone assumes an out-of-state woman would do. I had this smug grin and a little swagger when I locked the car: beep-beep…and then subsequently realized I parked many, many blocks from where I was supposed to be.
The Shoulder works all day Saturday and all day Sunday and I have keys to pretend it’s me who lives in an efficiency on the fourth floor of the east side. They keys jingle in my hand I as I pretend that I unlock this door daily, like it is second nature. I have to put my bags of bottled water, cashews and shampoo down on the sidewalk. Jingle. Jingle. The slow swirl of the barber’s poll sees my secret and peels up and down a little wiser than he was.
Today I’m too tired to be at work and I’m drinking ginger tea, which stings my tongue.
posted by j-e-s-s-i-c-a at 10:45 AM
2 Comments:
I wish I had your adventures. Glad to see you back. I missed ya!
Jeez, I also totally wish I had your adventures. Even the few that I've been there for are clearly more fun the way you live them.
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