My first creative nonfiction writing class is next week. This weekend I plan to purchase a guitar tuner so that I can tell whether I'm making any sort of progress teaching myself to play the guitar. I also want new sheet music for the piano. I also have to get enough groceries to feed two boys (and myself I suppose) for the next few weeks. I'm reviewing all the activities and research and STUFF from my entire life so that I don't flounder during interviews. I'm anxiously waiting to finish the last application for one of the few schools I'm actively excited about. Tomorrow I will meet cancer patients. The weather has been gorgeous, and I've been driving down 19th Avenue with my windows down. My car, however, is quickly and surely falling apart. I talked to Frank today and hope to see him in DC in October, and to see my roomies in New York in December. I got a long voicemail from Yonina and hope to chat with that crazy girl soon. And as though my mind and heart were not already stretched to their limits, Andrew is visiting, not once but twice, before he leaves the country.
I thought more time would mean savoring things, but really it just means more things. It's funny how we say we don't have time, or we have more time, when really, we always have the same amount of time. It may be that there is no absolute right pace of life. It's all right. Sometimes it's just hard. Other times it's hard, but it's mine and it's lovely. Everything is astir.
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