July 7, 2010
(from hark! a vagrant!)
over independence day weekend, I spent a great portion of my time putting my belongings into boxes. I reached that place where I either had gotten a great deal done, or maybe nothing; I honestly couldn't have told you. I moved three giant carloads of stuff from the old apartment to the new.
independence: I would like some. freedom to sip margaritas at outdoor patios; freedom to drive somewhere aimlessly with the windows down, to spend a saturday dragging my flip-flops over the sidewalk on an afternoon walk, to swing on a hammock in someone's backyard. maybe grill a hamburger. stroll through the market. I do some of these things, but I do them with the ever-present, ominous weight of everything else that needs to be done creeping upon me.
I'm doing too much. lately I feel held hostage by the things I love. it's a terrible place to find yourself. when I'm doing one thing, I'm haunted by all the other things that need doing. my brain is scrambled. did it get this way because of the move? I want desperately to believe that it got this way because of the move. I want moving to solve everything, but I have an inclination that it won't. and yet I'm not doing a whole lot more than I was, say, last summer. so what the hell is going on?
I feel insufferable when I'm like this. I hate talking about it because it's a problem that feels so self-perpetuated, and yet I don't know how to come out from beneath it. simultaneously it's all I can complain about. it's long been the great regret of my adult life -- my saddest lesson -- that one really can't do all that one desires, if one has this many desires. there is not enough time.
also, I'm suffering from a couple of stupid, minor, nameless, but nevertheless bothersome injuries. things hurting lately: both feet, hip flexor, back, knee. I am not running at all, and for so many reasons that upsets me. I hate the idea that I'm losing my running base; also, running is a great outlet for me and without it I feel unmoored.
can I at last tell you how the worst thing of all is how I continue to feel that somehow there must be a way to get this all done; to do it cheerfully, and efficiently, and with time left to perhaps read a chapter of one's novel at the end of the evening. I feel this way despite years of struggling, and therefore I continue to feel moderately down on myself for not being better at cramming everything in.
I'm moving saturday. I want to be able to promise you that there will be no more whining on this blog after then. that after saturday it will be all cheerfulness, and I will be happily painting my toenails. it's summer, goddamn it. but I can't promise. I'm crossing my fingers anyway.