i’ve half a dozen aborted attempts at posts hanging in my dashboard from the last few months. ideas that just lurked beneath the surface, forever inchoate, resigned to insufficient vocabulary — mine; the english language’s.
i’ve had countless other thoughts, mind you, that never even made it as far as the blank page. so let me get a few things off my chest, in the form of a list (here’s looking at you, DMM):
- i am craving novelty. strawberry and basil sangria. springtime thrift store trips. poetry writing. home furnishings.
- i am curious. i told my beloved yesterday that i wished i could be a professional dilettante when i grow up. “i’d be such fun at cocktail parties.” things i want to dabble in some more: linguistics. ukelele. spanish. container gardening.
- i did it casually in high school, but i took it up again in college and got addicted fast. my employer and several of my friends want me to quit, but i just have no motivation to kick the habit. (i’m talking about french spacing… but you already knew that, right?)
- i have resolved — not new year’s resolved, merely resolved — to revisit yoga (yes, to dabble), and i am incredibly excited. for something that has given me so much calm on the single-digit times i’ve done it, i can’t believe i haven’t made more room for it.
- i don’t know if i could bear children. the pain, the spectacle, the already-questionable fertility, the knowledge that so many born children need mothers already. i would love to have a little wild-haired genetic mini-me someday, but i don’t know if that’s a good enough reason for me.
- on a related note, everyone in the world should read this.
- all my life i have wanted to be enigmatic. i am TERRIBLE at it.
- not totally sure why i was curious about this, but i have just proved the “if you can imagine it, you can find it on the internet” dictum wrong, once and for all.
there is more, there is always more, there is so much more, but it’s been three freaking months already.