Not A Fiction Post.
It's strange, the slow movement of winter to spring, the miniscule transitions in weather that remind me of better feelings, of warmer times where there would be no worry over cold fingers and extra jackets. Winter is a queer time for readjustment, especially when everyone's hibernation instinct is kicking in and they'd all rather sleep than live. What makes the other seasons so special? I suppose it's all about stretches of extremes. When we're cold, we'd rather be dozing off in a hot tub. When we're easing sweat off our brow we'd rather be rolling in a snowdrift. Most of the time we'd rather not live in our seasons.
I know last year I'd give any number of appendages for something else. The cold in February and March was bitter and relentless. I had a stranger breathing down my neck, barking at me and ludicrously asking for money I hardly owed. It's strange how the span of time between seasons changes us. I was unhealthier, weighed more, felt estranged from college (though no span of seasons can ever change that) and jobless, falling between obsessions of activity and social depravity. The warm weather had a way of social spontaneity. My home on Susquehanna did not.
Last year I lived at so many places that even sleeping a night at home feels like I'm freeloading. Perhaps I'd like it better if I didn't have a set home; just places to drop my suitcases and enjoy long stretches of time with friends and strangers. I hardly spend time at my home now, there's no real need to dwell there most nights.
I'm seeing a therapist this Thursday. Perhaps we can discuss my urge to constantly be in motion, despite my oft unwillingness to do so.
I have had Big Business in my head all day long.
I know last year I'd give any number of appendages for something else. The cold in February and March was bitter and relentless. I had a stranger breathing down my neck, barking at me and ludicrously asking for money I hardly owed. It's strange how the span of time between seasons changes us. I was unhealthier, weighed more, felt estranged from college (though no span of seasons can ever change that) and jobless, falling between obsessions of activity and social depravity. The warm weather had a way of social spontaneity. My home on Susquehanna did not.
Last year I lived at so many places that even sleeping a night at home feels like I'm freeloading. Perhaps I'd like it better if I didn't have a set home; just places to drop my suitcases and enjoy long stretches of time with friends and strangers. I hardly spend time at my home now, there's no real need to dwell there most nights.
I'm seeing a therapist this Thursday. Perhaps we can discuss my urge to constantly be in motion, despite my oft unwillingness to do so.
I have had Big Business in my head all day long.