Not really. And I know I’ve said it before. But I am going to be posting more often, for one. There’s more. I’m tired of being tired. I’m making lists. I’m setting goals. I’m making decisions. I’m monitoring my productivity. I’m attempting a regular sleep schedule, writing schedule, blogging schedule, work schedule, play schedule, homework schedule, tarot schedule, blogging schedule, et cetera. There’s more. I am cataloging my activities. I’m devoting a certain number of hours to each, I’m slotting free time, and chinchilla time, and career time, and everything else. I’m drafting my future. My life. I’m charting my way to happiness. There’s more.
On Thursday afternoon I was sitting on a bench at Chatham, just out of the sun. It was surprisingly warm, and fresh, and I looked good, but something was off: I felt good, too. I felt different. Awake. That feeling you get when you’re in a new place you want to belong, but haven’t attempted, and the air feels lighter and you feel lighter and ten years younger, but wiser – but brighter. There’s more. The leaves on a tree in front of me are turning red, but the air is still summer-warm. There are pumpkins in the windows of the building above, light in the courtyard to the left, more benches, and a statue of a cherub of sorts with a cistern of water that is really stone, or cement, or whatever he’s made of. A large brown squirrel sneaks up behind me, digs in a bed of wood chips and sod with his paws, carrying a large brown nut in his teeth. He sees me watching him, pauses, scurries away to find a new place, a secret. There’s more. I walk past the duck pond on my way to work at the journal, and some students are lounging with the mallards. The grass is wide open. I smile, a real smile. There’s more. Two girls in a doorway are holding hands, and they don’t care who sees.
[...] First off, I will be posting more often. Secondly, I thought I’d take this opportunity to talk about my tarot dreams – both [...]