While listening to Kid A, windows open, one shoe off

Spring's in full swing and summer's just around the corner. This bit of digital space has remained static as of late (admittedly it's not my first priority), but perhaps the ensuing relent of academic obligations will offer me both (1) thoughts worth sharing and (2) the time to share them. I suppose it's presumptuous of me to deign whether or not my own thoughts are worth sharing... and yet, we do demand a kind of quality control from any purveyor of information. If my judgments about my own thoughts are not taken to be the universal standard by which they are measured (and I am advocating no such thing), they are at least a useful tool for limiting the flow of information. See, was that digression even necessary? I leave it in as an example.

To continue--I have to say that the prospect of this summer, the idea of it, is tremendously exciting. I would say more exciting than anything in recent memory, but there was that trip last year. I'll be moving into a house (a house!) in a few weeks, with such an abundance of light and warmth as you wouldn't believe. Lots of places to read. My plans for the coming months are similar to the plans I make for every amorphous, as-yet-unfilled space of time that has ever loomed over or shimmered just out of reach of the present; cook more, read more, write more. A programme rarely carried out to completion, though I now have the consolation (?) that cooking will no longer be quite optional. This aspirational troika is matched by three other related but more specific targets: bake more, play more chess, get outside. Is this too much for one person to handle? Will my quest for self-actualization lead inevitably to disappointment? Tune in next month to find out! (Anyone looking for a baking/ chessing/ biking partner, etc, feel at liberty to contact me. I also know of a burgeoning summer book-club that promises to mix exclusivity with Greensboro-hipster aspirations. Scintillating! Inquire for details.)

[I was hungry last night. Really hungry. I started flipping through Paul Reinhart's The Bread Baker's Apprentice and I almost gnawed through the pages, I almost threw it or myself across the room. The bread looked so GOOD. No, it didn't just look good. That implies culinary desire, carnal desire, simple appetite. It looked beautiful. That bread looked beautiful. I want to bake, NOW.]

It has begun to rain.

January 1

I suppose that New Years day is one of the quietest days of the year. In America, at least. Most things are is closed, but there aren't any special traditions to take part in. Sure, there might be family rituals, and if I remember correctly they have some traditions in France, Spain, places like that... for us, it's the day to take down our Christmas tree. I figure that for most people around my age it's first and foremost the morning after a party. Which is fine. Days this quiet are hard to come by.

Of course, most days in Newton are about this quiet throughout the year. I'll be happy to get back into Greensboro, at least until I get tired of it too. It's not like Newton has nothing to offer: I like my neighborhood, the weather here, the cats. I like the huge oak tree that grows in our front yard. It used to lose a huge limb every winter during the ice storms and once one crushed our neighbor's car. I was sure that one year the last of its limbs would drop away, and we'd have to cut it down. But there haven't been any ice storms the last couple winters. Maybe it will be around for a while. I'm 99% sure that the tree doesn't mind staying in our front yard, not going anywhere, just letting the neighborhood birds crawl all around its shoulders and hair. It's different for me. Not being under any kind of pressure makes me feel like I'm wasting away a little bit. There's a sense of helplessness about being in my house and not having anywhere to go. If I can't do useful work, I at least want to be out, making interesting memories or trying something new. Making pottery or something. Maybe that's all available to me, and I've just grown too helpless to see it. Maybe not. It's silly because I'm always so eager to go back home at the end of the semester. I thought I'd go home and bake a lot of bread in our cozy kitchen, with the fire going in the other room. I haven't baked any bread yet, but I still might try... I go back to Greensboro in less than a week now, anyway.

It's funny: I realized that I always start blogs and things like that during December, when I'm locked away at home. I suppose that a pile of books, a blanket, and a grilled cheese sandwich aren't enough to keep me completely satisfied after all. Not to say that they aren't nice. Nice enough that I'll miss them when I go back.