A good friend of mine recently wrote a post about the wave of contentment and still serenity that accompanies the unconstrained portion of the beginning of summer, entitled Nothing but Blue Skies?. You should go read it. She's a fabulous writer.
And on that note, I've decided to transcribe my own redux of the same topic, because I find that I'm on a similar frequency. I've stopped short of listening to Doris Day on repeat, but the feeling of a quiet acquiescence of a tranquil, steady, if temporary, existence at the moment has come over me, accompanying the greater realizations achieved in my most recent post. I have roughly two weeks left currently in Lisbon, ten days to follow that in Paris, and then what should hopefully turn out to be approximately seven weeks of leisure in Denver, perhaps working but not forcing the issue of anything unnecessarily. I'm getting along in my proceedings uncontroversially at the moment, and I don't feel put upon for the first time in what feels like months. I also happen to be the only person in my apartment of seven at the moment, something that will change only to the tune of a fluctuation of one or two people in the coming eight days, which is allowing me breathing room to, as the cliche goes, just "do me". The space is allowing my creative side some room to formulate new projects, which I'll write about later if they come to fruition.
It turns out that when left to my own wits, to just do me, I take more spur-of-the moment decisions, but ultimately for the better. I have nights out where my excessive drinking doesn't lead to a blown-up incident at home but rather just an average night of clubbing and coming home early in the morning. I have gone to the beach at a moment's notice. I have simply lived, breathed, and perceived the simple nature of all of those actions without ulterior motive or feeling to drive myself crazy with neuroses about it. I have less of a sense of calm before the impending, inevitable storm than my friend, but therein lies the main difference between us: she is a workaholic, someone who consistently and persistently overloads herself with chores and assignments until she physically, if not mentally, needs a break from it, and I am a somewhat more "type B" personality than that. Yet there are impending duties and responsibilities, regardless of the way in which the plans I am trying to effectuate turn out, and I have a full understanding of what needs to be done to plan for everything to go as smoothly as possible. I'm just not going nuts over it. Apparently wavelengths travel a great distance.
And on that note, I've decided to transcribe my own redux of the same topic, because I find that I'm on a similar frequency. I've stopped short of listening to Doris Day on repeat, but the feeling of a quiet acquiescence of a tranquil, steady, if temporary, existence at the moment has come over me, accompanying the greater realizations achieved in my most recent post. I have roughly two weeks left currently in Lisbon, ten days to follow that in Paris, and then what should hopefully turn out to be approximately seven weeks of leisure in Denver, perhaps working but not forcing the issue of anything unnecessarily. I'm getting along in my proceedings uncontroversially at the moment, and I don't feel put upon for the first time in what feels like months. I also happen to be the only person in my apartment of seven at the moment, something that will change only to the tune of a fluctuation of one or two people in the coming eight days, which is allowing me breathing room to, as the cliche goes, just "do me". The space is allowing my creative side some room to formulate new projects, which I'll write about later if they come to fruition.
It turns out that when left to my own wits, to just do me, I take more spur-of-the moment decisions, but ultimately for the better. I have nights out where my excessive drinking doesn't lead to a blown-up incident at home but rather just an average night of clubbing and coming home early in the morning. I have gone to the beach at a moment's notice. I have simply lived, breathed, and perceived the simple nature of all of those actions without ulterior motive or feeling to drive myself crazy with neuroses about it. I have less of a sense of calm before the impending, inevitable storm than my friend, but therein lies the main difference between us: she is a workaholic, someone who consistently and persistently overloads herself with chores and assignments until she physically, if not mentally, needs a break from it, and I am a somewhat more "type B" personality than that. Yet there are impending duties and responsibilities, regardless of the way in which the plans I am trying to effectuate turn out, and I have a full understanding of what needs to be done to plan for everything to go as smoothly as possible. I'm just not going nuts over it. Apparently wavelengths travel a great distance.
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