Rest Day

I don't quite know what to say about the last few days. It's one of those times when there's so much going on, both internally and externally, that I am at a loss. When I don't know what to think, I generally don't know what to say.

There's also the fact that much of what is going on is excruciatingly personal.

My legs felt the need for a rest, so I stayed at home, off the bikes, knitting and working, and IMing with a friend. She had good advice, and I fear it was one of those conversations where I took more than I gave back, and I hope to rebalance the equation at some point soonish.

I am changing so fast this year that I sometimes wonder what I will uncover about myself next. On the whole, it's a good process, even if the roads are occasionally bumpy.

Sometimes the bumps involve other people, and I falter and lose my way, and wonder what the hell I am doing in this part of the woods, and whether it's time to ditch this metaphor and look for something less mangled.

I had a weird weekend, with one thing and another. Some sad things. Some hopeful things. It left me feeling tired, and quite a bit confused. Mostly about what I want. Both of the people I talked to about it today kept asking me what I want. What do I want? I have very little solid idea.

Ultimately, of course, I'd like to feel happy and whole in my own skin.

I am not at all sure whether that means having a partner hanging out with me, touching that skin on occasion. I just don't know. I have certainly been wishing for some element of that, but every time I get close to thinking about getting close, it's too too close, and I just close up like a crab. A hermit crab.

My hair feels too long.

I made soup.

I'm always hungry.

I'm knitting some beautiful gloves for Special J. They feel soft and look subtle.

I danced around the apartment a little. I listened to Parliament on the train. I huddled on the couch like a little old lady, knitting away on toothpicky dpns. Somewhere, maybe, there is a man who'd be delighted by me, who is feeling lonely and working on his hobby, whatever that is, and thinking he's not sure what he wants from life, either. Maybe.

(I am thinking of no one in particular, mind you.)