Flotsam and Jetsam
They're doing the floor in my basement on Friday (the next step in making it inhabitable again post-Great-Flood), and so I had to consolidate the stuff I had left in the basement so there would be room to move the rest of the furniture in and out as necessary. Going through boxes is hitting me like a fist in the gut, which I didn't expect but which doesn't surprise me.
I left Lawrence in much the same way the Israelites left Egypt-- hurriedly, with lots of unfinished business and at least partly under cover of night. Except for books and dishes and clothes, I pretty much tossed everything into whatever box was handy. Now, unpacking, I keep coming across little things that I tucked away and forgot, stupid mundane things that just serve as reminders that, for better or for worse, that part of my life is over. Unchanged British coins. Rechargeable batteries and a charger that fits into French plugs. The scrap of paper upon which Sascha drew the first mince. To-Do lists with half the items checked off. Cocoa packets I lifted from Lucinda's. It really hurts sometimes. I miss feeling independent and competent and intellectually engaged and socially connected. There are things about my life now that make me hopeful, that interest and delight me and that make me excited for the future, but they are almost all remote-- promises and possibilities, not things that I can turn to and touch. (Note I say almost. Andy and Katie, in particular, are fantastic. :D)
This can't continue. It will not continue. I will not settle for being lonely and idle. One of these days I will be in grad school. As soon as August I will have my own place. Things are, incrementally but steadily, getting better. I just hate the feeling that I'm marking time until my life starts again.
*sigh* At least the basement's clean.
I left Lawrence in much the same way the Israelites left Egypt-- hurriedly, with lots of unfinished business and at least partly under cover of night. Except for books and dishes and clothes, I pretty much tossed everything into whatever box was handy. Now, unpacking, I keep coming across little things that I tucked away and forgot, stupid mundane things that just serve as reminders that, for better or for worse, that part of my life is over. Unchanged British coins. Rechargeable batteries and a charger that fits into French plugs. The scrap of paper upon which Sascha drew the first mince. To-Do lists with half the items checked off. Cocoa packets I lifted from Lucinda's. It really hurts sometimes. I miss feeling independent and competent and intellectually engaged and socially connected. There are things about my life now that make me hopeful, that interest and delight me and that make me excited for the future, but they are almost all remote-- promises and possibilities, not things that I can turn to and touch. (Note I say almost. Andy and Katie, in particular, are fantastic. :D)
This can't continue. It will not continue. I will not settle for being lonely and idle. One of these days I will be in grad school. As soon as August I will have my own place. Things are, incrementally but steadily, getting better. I just hate the feeling that I'm marking time until my life starts again.
*sigh* At least the basement's clean.