In an effort to rid myself of old, annoying internet handles and to unify things for my new Etsy shop, I shall now be blogging
I kind of hate being the person who changes blog locations annually. But then again, I kind of don’t.
Sometimes summer feels filled with a lot of pressure. The nice weather beckons a person to go outside, but what if a person just really wants to stay inside, altering dresses and getting lost in a bunch of knitting projects? I know there’s nothing fundamentally wrong with that, but the guilt remains. This summer I’ve been generally unmotivated to do much besides lay about, lost in books or thought or air conditioning. I start to worry about things, like that I’m not going swimming enough or bicycling enough or going camping enough. Ruminating on summers of old, I honestly cannot remember how many times I went swimming or how many bike hours were logged. So I think I’m okay.
My mint plant, which was doing so well, is now burning to a little crisp. I wish I could be a decent steward of plants, but maybe it’s simply not in the cards.
Yesterday at the movie theater, some adolescents asked Chris and I to buy them tickets to an R-rated movie. We declined, and they moaned and shot us dirty looks. Lately I’ve been feeling sort of old, at least as compared to kids. The lesson is, of course, to pay no mind to what kids do.
Perhaps as a bit of karmic retribution for denying young hellions the pleasure of taking in a horror flick, I woke up around 3 o’clock in the morning and vomited for hours. Assuming it was either a food thing or a pregnancy thing, Chris was sent to the grocery store for applesauce and early response baby detectors. Thankfully the problem was eventually attributed to the former, though the ordeal did allow for some interesting rumination. In conclusion, I do not want to have any babies now or for a couple of years hence, but would not be terribly upset or devastated if such a thing came to pass. Unless it involved feeling as awful as I felt for much of today. In that case, no thanks.
There is this art festival going on outside, which is a departure from the usual silence or Mexicans talking or fire station sirens or police station sirens. I drove out to my mother’s house this evening and then back again. It was a perfect summery night for a drive through some empty space. On the way home, I prepared myself to be impressed when the city lights came into view but then I forgot to notice. I only remembered when I was parking the car. I think I must have been distracted by a live version of “I’ve Seen All Good People” by Yes being played on the radio.
July 11 marks the anniversary of my arrival in Chicago. On this day, I will drive with my mother and my boyfriend to Madison, Wisconsin. I will note my reaction to the town and campus and determine if they are places I’d like to live and study, respectively.
Suddenly it’s muggy and I wasted an hour at the unemployment office this afternoon. I was reading a play and mostly successfully blocking out the noises of people and place, when the older European man sitting next to me questioned me about my glasses tattoo. I didn’t feel much up to chat, so I did my best to avoid his queries. Finally he remarked that it’s a lucky thing I only have the one tiny tattoo. Oh what dresses and cardigan sweaters will cover!
Already eagerly anticipating fall makes me feel a little ashamed, but there it is.
It was a good day, this day, after a string of bad ones filled with laze/malaise. Things feel hard right now but there are a couple of important constants which keep it all on the rails. I see people carrying fresh cut flowers from the farmer’s market and they seem like such a decadent expenditure.
It rained on the 4th of July.
There are a lot of lightning bugs now, suddenly. Not as many as when I was a kid but that’s to be expected, I think, in these times. Walking around at night is sort of a dreamy experience, especially in Ravenswood because there are so many large trees and other plants. In Logan Square it’s interesting to see the wacky siding people have on their shoddy houses and to smell their barbeques.
Some days I need to remind myself that I have a really amazing partner. Finally the word can be used. Take it for granted I must not do.
I wish someone would walk into this room right now with a piping hot tray of breakfast things. Toast and eggs and maybe some cantaloupe, as well. While I wish, I sit with dirty feet and drink a concoction of almond milk and concentrated coffee with laundry churning away in the basement.
I should be interested in the 4th of July. I am not. I keep thinking of 4ths of July past and feeling a bit morose.
Despite my dislike of him, I am a little sorry my neighbor across the hall moved out. The landing seems creepier now. There is an errant dust bunny. I hate to think of the empty apartment that once so joyously housed a foosball table in the kitchen. I hope somebody new moves in tomorrow.
I recently signed up to do some volunteer work at the library, as a means of beefing up my grad school applications as well as exposing myself to the environment and people of the place. Yesterday afternoon I assembled an outfit nearing business casual so as to wear to meet the volunteer coordinator. I haven’t had to don office clothes in quite a long while. This attire is not missed by me.
The weather was sort of perfect for uncomfortable dress, though, since it wasn’t hot and it was quite breezy. I rode the el downtown and met up with the guy, who was as unapologetically homosexual as I expected him to be. Despite remarking that he has little time to spend on matters volunteering, he spent an hour and a half with me that culminated in him showing me his personal quilting/travel blog.
Once my thorough background check is complete, I can begin work. I have high hopes that I’ll end up getting a lot out of this.
The boyfriend left for parts desert once more today. I kind of hate seeing him go, though I also appreciate the opportunity to have a couple days to myself. Our daily routines have become closely intertwined, which is both comfortable and uncomfortable. In reading about the scandalous affairs of the South Carolina governor, I was struck by a comment his wife made.
“I believe enduring love is primarily a commitment and an act of will, and for a marriage to be successful, that commitment must be reciprocal.”
I’m not married and I cannot relate to this woman on any other level, but there’s something to the idea of love requiring mental fortitude that strikes me as practical and true.
