They've never gone this long without a kill before.
I had started to think that maybe I went about this whole summer the wrong way. But now I think I was wrong about that, too.
This week has been amazing. I'd been desperately trying to make sure my last week home would be all things amazing and fun and exciting and yada yada. Which would have meant precisely planning and mapping out what was going to happen and having time limits and exact plans. But I let go a little bit, gave a big ol' whatthefuckEVER, if you will, and so far it's worked. Monday I was wined, dined, entertained, batting caged, and driven clear across the valley on Ventura Blvd without even realizing we had done so. Tuesday was my last day of work (and yes I did tear a bit, only because every partner who was there group hugged me to stop my leaving). Then I camped with my brother and his friends, played catch with him, had great talks with people I never thought I would, and capped the night off with hot tubbing and a good movie. Yesterday I "attended" a movie premiere in Westwood, saw the most beautiful creature God has ever created, and took care of a sick friend. Today I'm spending my hard earned money at H&M, having lunch with Robyn, then UCLAing. Tomorrow is San Diego and I am SO FREAKING EXCITED. Saturday beach with Cage and party at Daniels. Sunday packing and Cheesecake. And Monday and Tuesday I haven't even thought about, but I'm sure it'll all work out.
And I'd like to think I'm not just searching for some sort of sign in all this, but I find it so fascinating that in this week of uncertainty and anxiousness, on the verge of perhaps biting off more than I can chew, softball has made a few appearances in my everyday life. Batting cages with Cage, playing catch with Drew. For those few hours while I was hitting or catching, I really thought about how much I missed it, how natural it all felt, how much in my element I was. Insert other cliche here.
I don't know. I think this says it all, though.
Some days hum with unspectacular goodness
where it just feels good to be alive.
This week has been amazing. I'd been desperately trying to make sure my last week home would be all things amazing and fun and exciting and yada yada. Which would have meant precisely planning and mapping out what was going to happen and having time limits and exact plans. But I let go a little bit, gave a big ol' whatthefuckEVER, if you will, and so far it's worked. Monday I was wined, dined, entertained, batting caged, and driven clear across the valley on Ventura Blvd without even realizing we had done so. Tuesday was my last day of work (and yes I did tear a bit, only because every partner who was there group hugged me to stop my leaving). Then I camped with my brother and his friends, played catch with him, had great talks with people I never thought I would, and capped the night off with hot tubbing and a good movie. Yesterday I "attended" a movie premiere in Westwood, saw the most beautiful creature God has ever created, and took care of a sick friend. Today I'm spending my hard earned money at H&M, having lunch with Robyn, then UCLAing. Tomorrow is San Diego and I am SO FREAKING EXCITED. Saturday beach with Cage and party at Daniels. Sunday packing and Cheesecake. And Monday and Tuesday I haven't even thought about, but I'm sure it'll all work out.
And I'd like to think I'm not just searching for some sort of sign in all this, but I find it so fascinating that in this week of uncertainty and anxiousness, on the verge of perhaps biting off more than I can chew, softball has made a few appearances in my everyday life. Batting cages with Cage, playing catch with Drew. For those few hours while I was hitting or catching, I really thought about how much I missed it, how natural it all felt, how much in my element I was. Insert other cliche here.
I don't know. I think this says it all, though.
Some days hum with unspectacular goodness
where it just feels good to be alive.