library
I feel like I'm making up for lost time. That is, this will be a novel of a post, if I can get the words out.
As much as I am enjoying the freedom that has come with the end of school and exams, I find that it has left a void within my life, specifically related to political and philosophical mental meanderings. I am married to my job, but we all have trouble with our spouses. For me, it's that there is a definite cap to the conversation. Jokes are made to be small and unoffensive; conversations only last as long as someone's order. In a way, I have enjoyed this. I consider work to be a social experiment, a resource for practicing small talk. This is all well and good for what it is, but it is monotonous: I have long since given up on trying to laugh sincerely when someone says they should lose their license for bumping the cart into the racks by the cash. Last night, had a guy suggest getting together sometime, even smoothed out the request by saying he would love to hear more about Wicca. I kind of avoided the topic, saying I'm no good at explaining it. But this is what I mean; there are countless associations formed throughout my day, but they are limited by so many factors. I could not in good conscience make plans with a customer; I have been raised to be paranoid and naturally doubt my judgment of character. I want to overcome these factors, like how I no longer lock the door when someone is home, but I just don't know how to compensate for these failings.
Actually, that's a bit of a trend lately. In truth, it's probably just that my sleep patterns have been off, I haven't been reading/meandering, and I haven't been eating well. Or so I claim, because that's so often what I need in order to feel fulfilled. However, there is a curious catch 22 to the whole process: exactly when I am most diligently caring for myself and my personal concerns is when I am most happy with myself and least satisfied with the world around me. More specifically, my interaction with my world. Because my peers don't go to bed at midnight. And healthy snacks don't appease the crowd the same way, specifically if one leans towards veganism. And it's just hard to express the joy that comes from a really good run where there was this one puddle that reflected the light just so and the like. Or you can express it, but it is a bit of a dudd as a conversation starter.
On the plus side, I have been reading my magazines again. I am slowly trying to catch up on the weeks I missed due to this and that and the other. As such, I now know more about Galen Weston and I know vitamins are not risk-free and that there is going to be a statue of the Fonz built in Milwaukee.
Hmm. I'm also slowly weaving my way through an Arthur book. And I've still got that philosophy book mi madre got me for Christmas. And I've got a collection of Lovecraft to get into, at least a little, before returning it to the library (it may already be late, o, but I do owe them money, eep). And then there's the May Bee Project: Reloaded. I enjoy the name as much as I enjoy the process.
I guess what it all comes back to is the fact that I am what I read; words are my sustenance and substance. I just wish more of them were mine rather than borrowed.
Red rover, red rover;
~RA~
As much as I am enjoying the freedom that has come with the end of school and exams, I find that it has left a void within my life, specifically related to political and philosophical mental meanderings. I am married to my job, but we all have trouble with our spouses. For me, it's that there is a definite cap to the conversation. Jokes are made to be small and unoffensive; conversations only last as long as someone's order. In a way, I have enjoyed this. I consider work to be a social experiment, a resource for practicing small talk. This is all well and good for what it is, but it is monotonous: I have long since given up on trying to laugh sincerely when someone says they should lose their license for bumping the cart into the racks by the cash. Last night, had a guy suggest getting together sometime, even smoothed out the request by saying he would love to hear more about Wicca. I kind of avoided the topic, saying I'm no good at explaining it. But this is what I mean; there are countless associations formed throughout my day, but they are limited by so many factors. I could not in good conscience make plans with a customer; I have been raised to be paranoid and naturally doubt my judgment of character. I want to overcome these factors, like how I no longer lock the door when someone is home, but I just don't know how to compensate for these failings.
Actually, that's a bit of a trend lately. In truth, it's probably just that my sleep patterns have been off, I haven't been reading/meandering, and I haven't been eating well. Or so I claim, because that's so often what I need in order to feel fulfilled. However, there is a curious catch 22 to the whole process: exactly when I am most diligently caring for myself and my personal concerns is when I am most happy with myself and least satisfied with the world around me. More specifically, my interaction with my world. Because my peers don't go to bed at midnight. And healthy snacks don't appease the crowd the same way, specifically if one leans towards veganism. And it's just hard to express the joy that comes from a really good run where there was this one puddle that reflected the light just so and the like. Or you can express it, but it is a bit of a dudd as a conversation starter.
On the plus side, I have been reading my magazines again. I am slowly trying to catch up on the weeks I missed due to this and that and the other. As such, I now know more about Galen Weston and I know vitamins are not risk-free and that there is going to be a statue of the Fonz built in Milwaukee.
Hmm. I'm also slowly weaving my way through an Arthur book. And I've still got that philosophy book mi madre got me for Christmas. And I've got a collection of Lovecraft to get into, at least a little, before returning it to the library (it may already be late, o, but I do owe them money, eep). And then there's the May Bee Project: Reloaded. I enjoy the name as much as I enjoy the process.
I guess what it all comes back to is the fact that I am what I read; words are my sustenance and substance. I just wish more of them were mine rather than borrowed.
Red rover, red rover;
~RA~