This Head

*I can’t even find a photo right now. These eyes need to close. I’m sorry*

7 December 2013
10:49 pm


T. —

When I thought about writing a post tonight, I had already called myself a cop-out in my head. I haven’t done the exercise for today. I don’t have anything exciting to report. I have a throbbing migraine, and just want to crawl into bed. Then I read your post, and thought The truest thing we’ve ever said is that we are mirrors of each other.

I’ve thought that a lot: why didn’t I become a librarian? It would have made a lot of things a lot easier. I’ve been thinking recently about careers. More about passions and callings and professions and occupations, really, although a lot of those things are very different. I don’t have any answers to that, but I miss the time when I knew what I wanted to be with a ferocious certainty. Veterinarian, singer, actress, teacher, librarian — the specifics don’t matter. What is key is the conviction. I could use some of that now.

I’ve been thinking about how I liked this kickboxing class at the beginning when I could really respect the energy that is housed within the body, and the lines through which it is released. But today, after my third class (Andrew has gone to many more than I have), I cried almost all the way home because I realize I am not comfortable with this. My hands were not made to be weapons, and I cannot carry on in a fitness community that positions me against another person, even if that person is holding pads, even if it is the pads I am hitting and not the person. I was most disappointed by the fact that if I choose to stop going, it’s one more thing that separates Andrew’s day from my day. I loved that we went together, that it was something we could both participate in. But I don’t know anymore.

We’ve been curled up under a blanket for a lot of the day watching Breaking Bad. Probably doesn’t do much for my headache, but I’ve loved the company. Is it sad to say that if I could be attached at the hip to Andrew I would be? As long as there were books in reach as well though.

I finished “State of Wonder” by Ann Patchett last night. It’s an immensely beautiful book. I gasped. I cried. I laughed. I was shocked and surprised and in love with it until the very last page. I didn’t want ti give it up. I can feel it separating from me already — that each day from now on is a day further from the day that I read it. Good books have their own timelines, I think.

This head. Needs sleep.



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