Friday, December 09, 2005

Holidays Schmolidays

Maybe it's just me, but it does NOT feel like Christmas.

How can it really be December? Every year, more so the older I get, I have the sneaking suspicion that if I can just hold off shopping, Christmas can't really come.

Of course, that just means I'm one of those last-minute schmucks in the line that you people feel sorry for as you sip your lattes and laugh.

I'm running from task to task, telling myself those sneezes are just allergies. I'm spending all my "free time" working on the thesis. Work refuses to let me shake its grip. Public meetings 2 nights this week, 2 nights next week.

Starting Tuesday: a mad dash to grade papers.

All of this is very normal for my life. I'm used to being busy.

But it's Christmas! Or it's supposed to be, and yet ...

And yet.

I want a long walk alone near the Bosque.

I want time alone with a good pen and my favorite journal.

I want big sky and new moon. A conversation that doesn't end in tears.

A season of peace.

Part of the disorientation is knowing I'll be leaving the day after Christmas to go to New York City, a mecca that I've not yet seen. It's weird to be leaving my family, but I found out that my sister is leaving Christmas MORNING to visit her in-laws, so now, it appears I have nowhere to be Christmas Day. Sure, I can go to my mother's, but at the moment, she thinks (mistakenly, and I'm not sure how she got this information) that I'm leaving for Christmas, too. So I have the option to stay home, sleep in, walk my dog, watch some movies. In other words: hole up before hitting the big city. I know the mass quantities of people and surge of activity is going to be hard for me. Maybe I should stockpile solitude.

Generally, I'm just disoriented. Not sure why. What I thought I knew I've forgotten. I'm not currently headed toward any change (other than graduation, but that's been a constant for about 10 years now, so it's more of a touchstone than a turning point), I'm not unhappy with any one part of my life, and I'm not itching. It feels suspened. A space walk. Silence and void. And me, stretching to fill my life.

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