and I need to be waking up the bug, getting ready for school, wrapping up the projects laying all over the coffee table (including the coffee). i can hear our downstairs neighbor running water for a shower, and this morning i heard little pitter patters and pulling, nibbling, there must be a creature in our attic (god knows what lives up there, the light is burnt out and i won't venture up there - clay will, though, with his head lamp). i like house-sharing, i like the energy in this space (of course, the noise is always respectful, unlike our next door neighbors).
we've been writing letters, sending (real!) mail, reading books...saturday morning, i went to yoga, and afterwards i went to the library and curled up there in a chair and read an entire (non-school)
book from start to finish. i have told this story a hundred times. it meant that much to me, to be able to sit in a big open window and feel no obligation to any lingering homework assignments, to be able to say that for those few hours, time was mine. now, don't be fooled - most of the time, i love my homework assignments. i have spent nearly every waking moment (and probably sleeping too) of this weekend working on a paper on sylvia plath and confessional poetry, and i find myself writing my own poetry and wondering: if i hide behind metaphor, is it confessional? i think about the duality of women, the private and public nature, and how criminology theorists have labeled women as deceptive (we hide our periods and orgasms); we are expected to be fluid, and yet mysterious, right? as mystery is to be conquered, right? so, when women deviate from this behavioral pattern and open their thought process to the public eye without first polishing it, we are too honest, too blunt, and we've failed at the impossible (idealist) straddling of both worlds. i think about this as i write, wondering if it is better to hide behind metaphor, and often deciding that yes, it is better to hide, as the social consequences of saying what i might
really feel are more than i'd like to take on.
but the point is, that usually i waste my weekends away running pointless errands for things we don't need; i am restless, i procrastinate. this weekend, i lived at the library. i lived in essays and books and a lot of coffee. it was so worth it. i feel like this paper has become my second baby, and not only that, but i've finished a hat (2 of 2 for an order) and i made scones. we visited friends. yesterday, we went over to the house of twin girls in grace's preschool class and we had a great time. when i was in preschool, my best friends were a set of twins too. i often feel like i exist on the fringe, as an unmarried undergraduate student whose social peers are generally professors, college grads, married couples, at least ten years older than i am, and so on...but i am learning that i have much to offer, much to contribute. and taking so much time to myself this weekend to be in a place that i find so satisfying, doing something that i needed to know if i could do (sit down and read a book from start to finish) was so rewarding. this will probably become an every weekend thing. and, the momma of the girls from preschool knows how to needle felt! i cannot wait to have a crafternoon, while the girls play.
i had thought about posting here about the
book i had just read this weekend, too, and i might - several of the topics have been sort of a breaking point amongst friends and the divide that seems ever exacerbated by our differences only grows, and only pushes back further. i really loved the book, though, and i went into it with a very critical mind, expecting it to contain only the arguments of those i don't agree with. this was not the case at all.
a little bit of etsy love this morning.
and now i'm running late. oops.
0 comments:
Post a Comment