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.