It's funny because not too long ago I always had a bunch to say in my various online/paper journals but lately I keep running out of words. Somewhere along the line I lost the ability to string sentences together coherently--not just in writing but in verbal conversation too. Can you even imagine? Me...losing the ability to talk?
Yea, ok. I think I'm kidding myself with that. Haha.
Today was pretty great. I'm starting to get a little freaked by all the free time I now possess. Show and Sale is overwith (I managed to sell/trade the majority of my work) and I have nothing else pressing. I've spent the last eight months going crazy over school and now there's this lull. I can't decide if I'm really happy to finally breathe or if I'm feeling incredibly overwhelmed.
I need things to constantly keep me busy. That's why I read, why I knit, why I am constantly creating, why I work a part-time job. I need to be busy otherwise I start sliding into a depressing world that consists of whining about how depressing things are. And who needs that? It's so boring. Idle hands do the devil's work--that couldn't be more true.
So today, after spending the afternoon cooped up behind the Fibre department tables at the Show and Sale, I went for a half hour walk around Capitol Hill. It was so hot outside and I wished I had worn a skirt instead of long jeans. I spent an hour or so sunk in the corner of a sofa in a coffeehouse in the area, resting my teacup on my belly as I read about fifty pages of the novel I picked up at the library earlier this week. There was no one else in the place and the front door was wide open. Every now and then a warm breeze would brush through, lifting the curtains and raising the hair on my arms.
I forgot how great it is to become completely involved in a good book. It's to the point where I can't wait to get a chance to sit down and read. I eagerly flip through the pages, completely drenched in anticipation of an unwinding plot. I'm a huge reader, I guess I always forget that about myself. I'll probably have this book finished by the end of tonight, if not by tomorrow and then it's on to something else. Summertime means lots of great books and hours spend in the shade completely intertwined in a world much more fascinating than my own.
Yea, books let me forget about my own insecurities and troubles and allow me to focus on something other than myself. It's a godsend.
And with that I'm going to run a bath and continue reading. If you get the chance, pick up Hey Nostradamus by Douglas Coupland from your local library. It's so much better than the other crap he's been putting out. Seriously.