6 August 2008
Gonna flood you, big river
I'm going to teach computer science at the secondary/college level in Tanzania. It is likely I will be in a city. I am so excited.
30 July 2008
Giving me cause to recollect my mind
Yesterday I swam three-quarters of a mile. Today I swam a full mile as storm clouds rolled in overhead, racing a storm that never broke. Both days I felt that I could just keep swimming, but then in the shower found myself a little short of breath. I think I'll stick with a mile for a few days at least (although one and a quarter is tempting...).
When I got home from the pool, I noticed that my father was right and there's something wrong with the hinge of my laptop, so I took it apart. The case bends when the screen opens, right next to the hinge. Disassembled, I could see that the hinge was pushing on the case, but I can't tell if the problem is with the hinge or the case. Wary of taking it apart all the way, I made an appointment at the Apple Store for Friday.
It doesn't make sense to put it back together between now and then, so I've stuck all the screws and bits into neatly labeled plastic bags and I'll just take in the husk of the computer (lighter that way!).
Which is all to say that I may be online rather less between now and Friday.
(Friday after the appointment I'll put the computer back together and order whatever part I need. No sense in going without my baby for too long!)
26 July 2008
Every heartbeat needs a reason
When I'm swimming, the only things that exist are the inarticulable rhythm, and the count. Impossible to remember out of the pool, the rhythm tells me when to stroke, when to kick, when to breathe. It tells me when I need to hold my breath for just a little longer, when to grab the wall to push off, switching directions. It defines me, forcing muscles to move even after they tire.
The count is easy: the number of laps I've swum. I swim in sets of two, one freestyle, one breast stroke. Eight or ten or twelve sets means I can leave, and as I swim I bargain with myself--the pool is crowded; I'll only do eight. I don't feel tired yet; I'll do ten, twelve. I'll do more than I did yesterday.
24 July 2008
No sense in turnin' 'round; looking back won't change a thing
Statistically, it is nearly unavoidable that I will get married. I also feel that this is the case--that I will eventually find someone, fall in love, spend my life with them.
Of course, it's difficult to remember that, difficult to wait, when I spend my days wandering around the house alone, doing nothing, having conversations primarily with my cats. (At least they don't complain about the fact that I tend to sing at them, and I can intepret "meow" however I wish.)
It does not make sense for me to do anything now, but I'm using that as an excuse to stay immobile, to hide, to avoid social interaction. I need to meet new people (the friends I have are far away or busy working), I need to get out of the house, I need to leave the country. These things will happen eventually, but I wish they'd happen now! And yet, with all the wishing I do, I take no action.
21 July 2008
I'll waltz you, darling, across Texas tonight
Driving on the Beltway, singing along with the Infamous Stringdusters. 'Bound for Tennessee' comes up, the song that is how I feel lately. I find that I can't sing any more when I come to the line "It's not the going but the staying that worries me".
The first goodbye that seemed real was on Thursday, when I saw Kit for the last time in a couple years. The enormity of that goodbye hit me on the train, and I sat there keeping my face straight, willing my eyes dry. For my whole visit we kept singing snippets of songs to each other, reminded: "The moon is so full; the stars are so bright". And they were.
Est. 24.04.02
v. 2.37