Would it be good or bad to know what one wanted out of life? Would that feel freeing or restrictive? I don’t know what I want out of tomorrow, let alone the next few months or years and so for the moment I fill my life with trivia. I read books that aren’t for class or related to my studies. I plan projects that serve no practical purpose. I fill my days but with things that are ultimately directionless.
In the next few months, I’m going to construct a giant game of Snakes and Ladders. I feel nearly as calm thinking about this plan as I feel when I fall asleep with all my homework completed.
…so to speak, and it’s been a little disappointing. Happily, my lack of posting merely means that I’ve been out and about doing other (more social things). I used to have a livejournal back in high school and my first year of college and sadly my updating policy was pretty consistent: the more frequent my postings, the more precarious my state of mind. Posting is an inherently introspective act and while I’m usually pretty introspective by nature, I reach pathological levels when I’m stressed or unhappy. And right now things are pretty good. No shocking good, not soul-wrenchingly bad. Just fine.
So to make up for my past and sadly future absence, here’s a list of what I’ve been doing with my time:
1. Watching tons of Monty Python with friends while being gently drunk.
2. Having dinner with various amazing people who I haven’t seen in several months.
3. Planning move-in for the house in Baltimore. Next academic year I’m living off campus with five friends and tomorrow I’m getting up absurdly early with my dad and driving down to Baltimore with a van of furniture. I’m excited to see the house again and to finally get my stuff in there, but mostly I’m filled with dread. Oh moving. Ugh.
4. Combing the internet for information about Antarctica. This brings us to strange fantasy number two: I deeply wish to one day spend time in Antarctica. Really. This probably stems from 1) my intense love of snow and winter and 2) my past desire to be a marine biologist; a desire that has clearly never quite gone away. At age thirty-five, when I’m finally bored of whatever I’m doing, marine biology is totally going to be my second career.
So goodbye New York and goodbye blog. I’ll be back on Friday evening, tired, sweaty, and finally ready to think about Cambridge.
I’ve developed a minor obsession with the Highline. Everyone likes being part of a secret. In the summer of 2006 I worked for a television production company and had tons of free time at work which I spent online doing basically nothing. I read the paper and did minor amounts of research on random topics for potential television shows and eventually stumbled across a website devoted to hidden or abandoned places in New York. Alleys that dated from the late 18th century too narrow to drive cars through, or subway stations that had been closed. The Highline was an elevated railroad line that operated until 1980. And soon there’s going to be a park in the sky downtown on the west side, but I want to get up there before the park opens, so I can see how it looked before it was manicured and public.
Edited to add: The internet is a wonderful thing. 33d Street between 11th and 12th avenues. Supposedly here the Highline comes down close to street level. One more summer project for the list.
Working through my booklist.
Reading books that already live upon my shelves, thereby saving money to spend on laundry, alcohol, and frivolities in England.
Purging my room and closet of unwanted things. I aim to live a more streamlined life.
Getting my tattoo. This is probably not going to be accomplished, but I should at least get some serious research done regarding artists and locations.
Wearing heels more. This one is weird, but I’ve bought a pair of blue sandals with a slight heel and usually I would buy shoes like these and only wear them for special occasions. But now I’m starting to get to the point in my life where I feel like I should dress for me and ignore the voices in my head telling me that I look impractical. If in my head I’ve got an outfit I think would look nice, wear it. Life is short and I like it when I dress the way I think I’ll dress when I’m an adult. I think I might actually be an adult now.