Today was probably the most beautiful day of all time.
I swear, when the sun is shining and it’s warm Edinburgh is the most beautiful place in the world. The park, every park, is full of people. It’s like everyone just calls into work and heads outside. “I’m sorry, I can’t come into the office today. The sun is too sunny to be inside.” What better excuse could there be?
Curled up in the grass with a book full of happiness. Aren’t all books, though?
I leave for Croatia first thing in the morning, 6:30 am flight. I’ve got that horribly sickening sort of excitement sitting in my belly. When you’re nervous because it’s gonna be new and interesting and scary.
Until then… Someone has put on True Blood (sorry, but… Horrible) and I’ve eaten my bodyweight in excellently spicy curry so…
Yep, good day.
I’ll message you from the road, friends.
I don’t actually think I believe in the calm before the storm. The storm always breaks well before the rain, you can feel it in your mind, watch the darkness gathering in the distance, pulling you towards it like a wave rolling towards the shore. Feel the dread in your guy, heavy in the air, saturated.
York was lovely, a truly adorable city, but marred by the doom waiting to tip over our heads, the water balloon already in transit to smash into our face.
You’re never just paranoid. You know when something isn’t right. When something has gone unsaid.
I made myself horribly sick on it and have made the long-overdo pact with myself to give up drinking. Not in a black and white way. In a way that’s like… Why have I ever invested so much time and energy to make myself sick in a new friend’s dirty toilet for a day?
How would I need that when there is this?
Also, we went to a drag show.
But now we are back in Edinburgh, waiting out the storm. Maybe one of these days the rain will stop.
Am finally, ginormous cup of coffee in hand, sitting down in my friend’s living room for a bit of writing. No excuse why I’m not doing this until 8:30 at night other than the fact that I have recently become addicted to looking for apartments to rent in San Francisco that would be in my budget (also, fajitas)… Which is a fun game in that it’s a bit like looking for a needle in a haystack and stabbing yourself repeatedly in the eye, in that it’s both impossible and (did I mention?) really fun (no, a microwave and a minifridge do not count as a kitchen!).
I know it’s too early to find and August lease… I just can’t stop looking. I have the irrational fear that I’m going to miss something amazing.
Or maybe that’s perfectly rational. I don’t want to live in Buffalo Bill’s living room!
Anyway, I’m on the 9:00 a.m. train to York with my friend to visit her second most beloved British city. I’ve never been so it should prove an educational experience. Then back to Edinburgh for a few days, Croatia for a long weekend, two days t bid Edinburgh adieu before Dublin Part II (Revenge of the Irish) and a one-way plane back to Florida.
I won’t even get started on the epic birthday roadtrip I’ve planned thereafter. I’m like Carmen Sandiego, one never should know where I’ll pop up next (also I look a bit like a flasher in a trench coat).
But for tonight… I believe I have a book to write.
My friend invited me to her restaurant today and plied me with coffee while I perused my writing again.
It’s been a long month. As it turns out I left off at a much better place than I’d remembered… A bit of tweaking and I think I’m almost set to finish chapter 18.
I think tomorrow I’m going to duck out on all my friends and hide in a coffee shop all day until I at least finish 18. I can’t sit on this for another month. The future is lingering sadly. I fear between my three pending jobs, I’ll have little time to write outside my degree (if even that) so the goal is…finish this damn book by September!
Back to writing first thing tomorrow. I’m actually excited to get back into it.
In the meantime… I ate too much cake and too much coffee.
Today I am wearing my skinny jeans.
Forget everything else!
Every now and then I feel guided by a crazy impulse. This morning, my friends and I planned brunch. They are not here so I think I’m just going to eat all of this bacon and drink a bottle of champagne and probably book a trip to Croatia.
Anyway, the impulsive trip to Croatia is going to set me back a bit…. But… I could use a new adventure. And, well, $300 is far less than I’d pay if I were coming from America. Nevermind that I’m moving to one of the most expensive American cities at the end of the summer… Ah. Life.
This is the moral dilemma. Responsibility. Or… Croatia and a plate full of bacon. I am the greatest obstacle I will face in my own life.
What’s the point in being 23 and poor if you don’t at least have a few good memories tucked under your belt? I don’t want to be the kind of person with no good stories and only $500 to show for it.
And seriously… I don’t trust anyone that says no to bacon.
Let’s go to Croatia!
For a moment, let us be needlessly sentimental.
The day my oldest sister moved away to college I cried. This had nothing to do with losing my lifelong roommate who’d tolerated (albeit barely) my atrocious brand of childish messiness. I cried because sometimes the moment washes over you in a clear wave that tells you that nothing will ever be the same again.
Soon after, my family crumbled. We each retreated to our separate corners. I drowned myself in the depths of my bed.
I can’t say precisely that I love my life. I have been looking for something. A feeling that rushes through your chest. A feeling akin to happiness. Every now and then I feel it brush across my skin. The wispy entrails of feeling that could, potentially, solve the unknown question (42).
I find myself retracing my steps, looking back to the places where this feeling once brushed my life. I have returned to the place. Maybe the place has not changed, but the feeling has left. Like my sister leaving home, it’s become markedly clear that my life will never return to those moments of bald joy.
You can’t go back to those slippery moments of happiness. Why am I lingering, waiting for them to return to the places where everyone else has left? Why am I still the one, swimming around in the past, looking for those last vestiges of long-extinct moments. Why can’t I get out of my own superior, possibly imaginary, memories?
Let us find new moments. Let us find new happiness. This one is no longer waiting patiently for our return.