“Nobody knows so many things. So out of range, sometimes so strange, sometimes so sweet, sometimes so lonely. You just have to go, where I don’t know. This is the thing somebody said, somebody told me a long time ago. The further I go, more letters from home never arrive. And I’m alone, all of the way, all of the way, alone and alive.” – Patty Griffin
Had a busy weekend. Friday night I had dinner with Paul and his work friends in Skokie. I actually put effort into my appearance (which means I dried my hair, and put earrings in, which later made my ear bleed at the table… I really try to get those lasting first impressions in).
Saturday, we headed out to a funky used bookstore in search of everything and nothing. I had been wanting for weeks to spend some hours in a bookstore, because I had been in and out of bookstores trying to get something for him (which – of course – got me to a bookstore, but not with enough time to spend for myself). He immediately picked out this book by David Sedaris, and while I perused for a good 30 minutes I couldn’t find anything I really wanted. At some point this old guy came in the room and picked up a guitar that was just randomly lying there, and started playing Rainbow Connection, and then Paul started singing along, and I… hid in a corner, trying to find a memoir. (Singing is something he does. He’s got a decent voice; he spent years in show choir and glee club before there were TV shows about it. On occasion, he has taken it upon himself to sing TO ME IN PUBLIC, which mortifies me because people can see and hear. There are no corners to hide in, so I usually look straight at him or down, because I can’t imagine that people would be giving no fucks about some random singing.) Upon not finding anything, Paul bought me Bridge to Terabithia, because he was surprised I had never read it.
We stopped back by his place before grabbing lunch AND DID NOT TAKE OUR PHONES. I experienced mild anxiety about this at first (I write “mild” to downplay the anxiety I actually had), but survived (it was like 1995, without payphones. NBD).
Saturday night, I went to my friend’s house and met her parents, who were in from Texas. They regaled me with stories about lizards and snakes (with accompanying pictures), which reminds me why I’ll never, ever move to Texas.
And then today. Glorious today.
Today I had nothing planned except to give my dad a luggage set for an upcoming trip. I read Terabithia, though it was kind of a cheat book because I had seen the movie, so I knew what happened. And of course, I glossed through the ending and felt like a terrible person for not reacting, but at least I can say I read it.
I thought about how YA/children’s books have changed over time. I used to read all the time when I was a kid, but some of the ones that really stuck with me are the books I had gotten from my brother. He gave me the Golden Compass series, and also The Westing Game.
I tried playing piano and singing but it was pretty terrible (currently practicing “Can’t Help Falling in Love” [Ingrid Michaelson version]) so I stopped.
I slept a lot.
I did a little budgeting.
And then put more on the credit card.
I made food with the last that I had, and then thought about going grocery shopping, but didn’t, then followed that up with what it would be like to know how to cook.
I continued thinking about food and then wished that I was a size 6. Should probably accept that I will never be a size 6 again.
(As you can see, I yearn for a lot, I just don’t wish to work on what I yearn for. I rarely have true motivation for anything. It’s an ongoing problem. Sometimes I think of going somewhere, just to get my head straight, but since I’m not certain this will fix anything, it’s probably best to save what little I can instead. Someday, though. Someday I might just Good Will Hunting out this bitch, to see about … whatever.)
And am finishing up my Sunday of Recharge by writing this very blog, which is pointless but fulfills some sort of writing-soul-need. (Guess I do have motivation, somewhere.)
Have a good night, friends. Be kind to yourselves.