I want to go every where, see everything and do everything.
Well, nearly everything.
Most things. Anything new. different. exciting. Something I hadn’t done before or never imagined I would do. Write? Yes. Bunjee jump? Yes. Fall in love? Yes.
I wanted to do it all and have it all.
But lately it feels like I’m stuck. I’m doing few of the things I wanted to do. The universe of my life felt so big immediately after graduation, and three years later it feels so tiny. All the people I know could fit into my one bedroom apartment, and the people who would actually show up? Well one couch and a chair is more than enough furniture for all of us.
It’s not a bad life. I love the closeness I share with the few friends I have. It’s a much more stable life than being friends with everyone.
I’m just not patient. I never have been. And I’ve struggled to learn that apparent virtue. It feels an awful lot like neutral to me. I’m waiting I just don’t know what for. Every day I have to remind myself that this is good, this kind of quiet same-ness taking place. It’s okay to just be.
God, I don’t want to sound like too much of a hippie, but that’s all I can think of when I’m anxiously tapping my foot waiting for the next adventure to begin.
I’ve never been one to sit still, or even to stay in place. It’s hard. I know all of my neighbors’ names, their dogs, their troubles, their life stories. It’s nice. But annoying. It’s a routine now to meet in the backyard at 10 a.m. drink coffee and bitch about the early risers with the other stay-at-homers. When did this happen? I like my neighbors well enough. But who am I?
I have to keep reminding myself that it’s okay to wake up at the same time each day, eat the same breakfast, drink the same coffee, have the same conversations and go through the same motions.
It’s so damn boring.
Maybe that’s what’s bothering me. The routine has become rote, I could make it through most days blindfolded. Also t’s a Monday and news stories aren’t happening. (That is generally a good thing for the world, but bad for my malaise.) Thanks, holidays.
P.S. If you read anything online today, it should be this. It’s a great article from “Dominion of New York” by Ben Becker on the origins of Memorial Day, which was actually meant as a day to celebrate black men who fought for emancipation.