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- And if I remember correctly I was the person who was freaking out about not having enough time in this life to do everything there is to do - there is not enough time in the day and how do you read everything you want to read and write everything you want to write and spend time with friends and run and shower and feed yourself and clean up after yourself and do your finances and travel and sleep and listen to music and go to shows and, also, work. And everything else, that's hardly even the start. If I remember correctly, I was the one who spent a goodly amount of time wondering about this. I was the one who, hyperactively, tried to do all these things - and kind of succeeded. I kind of succeeded in doing many of the things I wanted to do in a day. I used to be productive, and hyperactive, and driven. These days I don't care and I realize with a sort of vague alarm that I should care, maybe, but I don't care enough to really care that I don't care. Reading? Bah, beh, I read enough. Writing? I'm not compelled these days and there's no point trying to force it. Everything else? Maybe instead I'll take a nap. There are other things I used to freak out about and I occasionally remember these things. This morning, for example, having potatoes with rosemary and rosemary, rosemary - rosemary makes me think of someone who had a rosemary bush outside of his apartment - and this is funny, last time I was in Seattle I went by his old place, to say goodbye to those times, you know - and at first I got the wrong house. It's hard, perhaps, to convey the lack of emotion behind these words and to contrast it with the pangs - the fucking pangs - of emotional turmoil behind the words I typed once upon a time. But it's funny to me - in the not-funny way - to be sitting here able to notice it. Seattle meant many things to me - the book I was reading when I first moved there was Great Expectations - the end of my time there was heartbreak - now it means heartbreak - but at least heartbreak is something. Isn't it? Wouldn't I rather have something than a Martha Stewart book? After my lease is up in August I'm a free agent and the world is at my fingertips except I don't care enough to be excited about it. Move back to Seattle and back to emotional turmoil? Ehh, maybe, I don't know. I listen to many things, I listen to sweet sweet love songs and smile. Then I listen to NPR.
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