no words

“I read once that the ancient Egyptians had fifty words for sand & the Eskimos had a hundred words for snow. I wish I had a thousand words for love, but all that comes to mind is the way you move against me while you sleep and there are no words for that.”
-Brian Andreas

I might just be the globes most committed advocate of body heat. There is nothing more peaceful than sharing someone else’s slumber, I believe. There is nothing more comforting than the feeling of someone’s breath on your neck, of burrowing into the warmth that he has surrounded himself with due to the stillness of sleep. It simplifies everything, quite like a blanket of fresh snow. When I find myself lonely, and desiring companionship, it is this feeling my mind is consumed with.

Sidebar: when did I become a cuddly, affectionate individual?

Recently I spent an unexpected weekend with one of my best friends and ‘first love’. Relaxed, it was like we never missed a beat. We spent the majority of the time sleeping, and I love the mutual understanding that we’d unite in a cocoon of personal warmth. We had always bonded over our appreciation for the simple things- for sleep, good food, books, words, truth. We might still disappear one day to an island (he prefers the country- ick) with nothing but our bodies, some homegrown food, and some books.

old news

It’s 2006 and I’m getting old. No, I don’t have a complex about being 23- I'm simply addressing being the opposite of young. We all set intangible goals for ourselves that fall between cracks and crevices of remembering, only to be tripped upon years later on a day when we aren’t on top of our game and our laces keep untying. So when I say old, I mean I am more acutely aware that I trip over those things more often (perhaps I’m getting too stiff to bend down and tie my shoe all the time, may want to consider the Velcro type). To combat the chronic stubbing of big toe, I have decided to start developing more calculated goals. Not calculated as in devious, moreso as in thought out. I am interested in perfecting the balance between my continuous need for dreaming and imagination with the encroaching persistence of reality, reason, and responsibility.
On the other hand, I must keep remembering how YOUNG I still am. I am always trying to do EVERYTHING I want, and before 25, so that I won’t have to wait so long. But when does the planning life in two year increments stop? What will I do if I ever have a family? That limits the selfish freedom to renew itself every couple of years. The task is to learn how to become excited and inspired by longer term planning. Why is it so difficult to answer the question “Write back 135 of your autobiography.” Or “Where do you see yourself in the next ten years?” WHAT, YOU MEAN 2016? I always thought the world would have ended by then…

what have you done with your life?

I’m getting bored with myself. Working full time will do that to you- even though you feel like you haven’t given enough during the day, being away for 8 hours is enough justification to come home and do nothing. Make half hazard meals and top off the glass of wine once more (to help you sleep soundly amidst the noisy night sounds of Harlem). Well frankly, I’ve had enough. I’ve been searching for a few things and slowing ticking off the boxes.

1) French and Arabic! Woohoo, I’m so excited to be studying language again. Starts in February. The Arabic, I’ll admit might prove too challenging for a full time employee with a life, but I am fascinated and think it could be the right kind of challenge.

2) Volunteering. So I’m interested in the arts, I’d really like to volunteer for an arts organization. I have begun reaching out to friends and contacts, and it looks promising for some kind of gig at a local museum.

3) Art. I nixed joining a book club, but have regained my love of reading. I go through phases where I can’t read another sentence, but gladly it’s come back on its own.