It’s a time of transitions for me, both in daily ritual and in settings. I have started my new job, which means that for the most part I am the latest starter in the household and the latest returner. I find myself squeezing in way too much before I take off on my trek to work in the morning (my workplace is closer than the train station, so I walk); I want to exercise, so I do, and I want to write, so I do, and I want to meditate…well, you get the picture. I figure that if I wear myself out then I don’t have time to think too hard about what and who I miss from working at the last place.
We introverts get a bit needy in wanting to hang onto what is safe, you see…and sometimes what we want to hang on to doesn’t want to be held.
So, I walk myself through this part of my life, a part that may take me back home to the Bay. If it doesn’t, then I keep trying other ventures–while I have a passion for what I do for a paycheck, I would, as the bumper sticker proclaims, rather be writing.
I am still milking the Macdonald book, as you can see–it’s too good to rush. For the end of April’s Independent Bookstore Day I picked up a copy of The Buried Giant to get to at some point from the San Diego Library Store. The beautiful thing about that shop is that even though it has a lot of knickknacks in it there are occasionally books for sale as well, so…I sort of have an independent bookstore. All profits go to the Library, anyway, so, yes, I buy from there every time I go to write somewhere on the upper floors.
The Gaitskill book is from the Carlsbad library, which I have a harder time making time for even though I am in Carlsbad almost all of the time these days. I hope I’m able to renew that one–I’ve made a little progress, but it’s a lingering book like the Macdonald book.
The cat calls and whines…I love being the default babysitter when I’m trying to get a few words in. As the kids like to say, Tata for now…❤️