The boy and I have been vacationing down in Metro DC for the past five days. (We've only got a couple left - boo, hiss.) It's nice to relax, of course, and we've had a lot of good food and drink and company already. We've also been to tour Gettysburg, gone through some Smithsonians, had an afternoon in Leesburg... All fun. All good.
I should sound more enthusiastic, but I woke up this morning with a sore throat and cramps, so I'm not exactly in love with my life at the moment.
Every time I'm down here visiting my family, I always find myself sinking into a preoccupation with my future and how to turn myself into the person I want to be. The stupid thing is that the things I am preoccupied with are materialistic and image-heavy. Like I want to present a more polished version of myself to the world - makeup and nice clothes and an impeccably clean apartment. I want to own nice things that make me happy to look at them. Or thinking about how much I should maintain a schedule of calling my relatives once a week, writing to my faraway friends once a month, getting together a list of things the boy and I should go and do before we get old or have kids.
I can do all these things. I keep trying. I keep doing them in half-measures. These days everyone is hung up on adult ADD and kids who can't concentrate enough to learn how to read, but I feel like I have life ADD. I can never finish the things I start. I need to find more of a sense of satisfaction in the END rather than the BEGINNING. How do I do this?
...last and final random thought relates to my perpetual love of music. New music. I need to listen to more. If I get with the program and start blogging more, I'll share more music too.
This whole post perfectly reflects the scattered mundanity of my thoughts these days. But you know? I love it. I love the mundane. I delight in my own mediocrity. Screw you, Salieri, you should be celebrating being on the sidelines. There's a lot less pressure.
