so much time
Hello all. It's been awhile, I know.
I went back and read some old posts a little while ago. So weird to look back. Was I being that poetic on purpose? I don't remember. Probably.
All the random things I posted on and all the important things I DIDN'T post on. The vagueries of internet journals.
Anywho. Life, well, goes on as life often does. I feel like I never have anything really very interesting to report.
The new house is working out well! Though it's kind of tough being out in the 'burbs. My slowly growing group of friends here is all centered in the city, a good thirty minutes away. It makes me feel like an old fuddy duddy sometimes, being married, having a house, have a car. Next thing you know, we'll be rocking in rocking chairs on our front porch, gumming oatmeal. If we had a front porch. Or rocking chairs. Or oatmeal. Wait, we do have oatmeal. Okay, so we're half way there.
Today I fully intended to go into Boston and crash at the Boston Public Library and write. Alas, upon arriving at their doorstep, I discovered they were closed. Chagrined, I retreated to a lovely bookstore/cafe where I ate granola, drank hot cocoa, and proceeded to maybe write 500 words. Give or take. It's a start. Look friends, the complexities of my ability to write/avoid writing are too much for this post here and now. I feel like I've discussed them ad nauseaum. Something about fear, something about necessity, something about perfectionism, something about paralysis.
I've been cooking a bunch, seeing friends and family. I'll be in DC for a conference later this week, and then the holidays are upon us like a tidal wave. A tasty tidal wave, but a wave nonetheless.
Adieu for now, fair readers, if any of you are still out there!
I went back and read some old posts a little while ago. So weird to look back. Was I being that poetic on purpose? I don't remember. Probably.
All the random things I posted on and all the important things I DIDN'T post on. The vagueries of internet journals.
Anywho. Life, well, goes on as life often does. I feel like I never have anything really very interesting to report.
The new house is working out well! Though it's kind of tough being out in the 'burbs. My slowly growing group of friends here is all centered in the city, a good thirty minutes away. It makes me feel like an old fuddy duddy sometimes, being married, having a house, have a car. Next thing you know, we'll be rocking in rocking chairs on our front porch, gumming oatmeal. If we had a front porch. Or rocking chairs. Or oatmeal. Wait, we do have oatmeal. Okay, so we're half way there.
Today I fully intended to go into Boston and crash at the Boston Public Library and write. Alas, upon arriving at their doorstep, I discovered they were closed. Chagrined, I retreated to a lovely bookstore/cafe where I ate granola, drank hot cocoa, and proceeded to maybe write 500 words. Give or take. It's a start. Look friends, the complexities of my ability to write/avoid writing are too much for this post here and now. I feel like I've discussed them ad nauseaum. Something about fear, something about necessity, something about perfectionism, something about paralysis.
I've been cooking a bunch, seeing friends and family. I'll be in DC for a conference later this week, and then the holidays are upon us like a tidal wave. A tasty tidal wave, but a wave nonetheless.
Adieu for now, fair readers, if any of you are still out there!