September 10, 2011

  • implicit simplicity, implicitly

    As seems to be common practice, I've neglected this spot for a few weeks now. It hasn't been out of a lack of desire, but essentially a lack of time to spare. With that in mind, here's a few miscellaneous thoughts in no particular order (which happens to be the best way by which to order things, with the exception of lists of numbers).

    Actually, I stopped after writing that first paragraph to send a few emails, and I find myself returning to this post with my creative juices completely stymied. It officially feels strange to sleep in this room, despite living and resting in this very corner for upwards of ten years. I'm living out of a suitcase in my own bedroom, sleeping on a guest bed, and using an old, shaky card table as my "desk." Despite all that, however, it has the one element of my room that I miss most in Arbutus; it has two dogs, sound asleep on the floor, content simply to be sleeping in my presence. Few feelings in the world can match the unconditional affection of an animal who is satisfied simply because you exist. 

    In many ways, I'm beginning to figure out that I'm going to be living two parallel lives for the next few years. On one hand, my entire existence has moved to the apartment; all of my belongings, books, and priorities lie within those walls. My weekdays will be spent studying at random hours there, away from the city that happens to be the only place I can remember living. But each week, Friday will role around. And right as the work week ends and people flow home to enjoy their weekend, I'll be coming home to start my work. This isn't a complaint; merely an observation. As I sit in this room and look around, it barely even registers as the same place. It's remarkable how quickly a new domain can become your home. And yet, this is still my "home." I get to hang out with Sam here, and run into my dad at 3 AM as we both troll for midnight snacks. (I feel like "midnight snack" is one of those words like kleenex or windex, where one brand becomes the description of all types; any snack after dark is a midnight snack, regardless of the actual hour). The simple pleasures of interacting with my family are daily rituals that I already miss, and so I get to catch up every weekend and come back to the other half of my life. As long as I can find the right balance, I think it's going to work out pretty well.

    That's pretty much my limit on inspiration for the evening; anything beyond that would be forced and contrived. So here's to an uncertain, but always adventurous future. I'm really looking forward to it, one day at a time.