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I did not contact my mother yesterday. Today I'm getting the occasional "pang" of guilt but it's elusive and that's fine by me. I sent a one-line e-mail this morning that has actually eradicated most of the sense of obligation floating around my brain. I mean, did I think of mother yesterday? Sure. Is recognition of a recently created (recent in the grand scheme of time) national holiday somehow going to make our relationship better or worse? No. Am I justifying my behavior? Yes and no. Well, isn't that eveything?
It's just that yesterday I couldn't do it. I couldn't bring myself to interact with the complications or having some simple basic token conversation that pretends those complications don't exist. Frankly, not calling just seemed more honest. And I'm all about honesty these days, or at least the universe is beating me on the head with it, even if I'm struggling with it personally.
I woke up and could have slept for four more hours which is unusual for me. But skipping a night of sleep will do that to my body. I was up until 6 am on Saturday night/Sunday morning and really only slept about an hour before I woke up and made the best quiche I've ever prepared (texture aside) that featured spinach, gorgonzola and swiss cheese. After the lovely brunch occasion that the quiche was for, I was limping along mentally and physically, so w went home so I could nap until I went to another meal occasion, this time dinner at Quincy's for indian food. I feel a little bad that I spend more than half of my conversations with Miss Rook and Thebrownhornet, but I just don't see them as often as I'd like so it's hard not to get greedy of any opportunity with them.
I got home at 10 pm and someone called trying to get me out the door again. Um, no. No no no. I went to bed. Though I will say I love that I live somewhere now where I can easily entertain the notion of coming and going whenever I please. The last apartment was not conveniently located nor was it necessarily desirable for walking alone at night, which limited most of my options for social events after dark without a ride. But last night I made it home in about half an hour and the walks between bus stops were lovely. Maybe the weather helped. Even though it's too hot for me. Why did it go from 40 degrees to 90 degrees?
I still haven't written about the play piercing ritual or Saturday's concert or the late night art party or rooftops or meeting new people who live in L.A. or adventures in unpacking or sex or dating or writing or anything else that goes along with these things that have come up in the past few days. Unless that last sentence counts, which for now, that will do.
It's just that yesterday I couldn't do it. I couldn't bring myself to interact with the complications or having some simple basic token conversation that pretends those complications don't exist. Frankly, not calling just seemed more honest. And I'm all about honesty these days, or at least the universe is beating me on the head with it, even if I'm struggling with it personally.
I woke up and could have slept for four more hours which is unusual for me. But skipping a night of sleep will do that to my body. I was up until 6 am on Saturday night/Sunday morning and really only slept about an hour before I woke up and made the best quiche I've ever prepared (texture aside) that featured spinach, gorgonzola and swiss cheese. After the lovely brunch occasion that the quiche was for, I was limping along mentally and physically, so w went home so I could nap until I went to another meal occasion, this time dinner at Quincy's for indian food. I feel a little bad that I spend more than half of my conversations with Miss Rook and Thebrownhornet, but I just don't see them as often as I'd like so it's hard not to get greedy of any opportunity with them.
I got home at 10 pm and someone called trying to get me out the door again. Um, no. No no no. I went to bed. Though I will say I love that I live somewhere now where I can easily entertain the notion of coming and going whenever I please. The last apartment was not conveniently located nor was it necessarily desirable for walking alone at night, which limited most of my options for social events after dark without a ride. But last night I made it home in about half an hour and the walks between bus stops were lovely. Maybe the weather helped. Even though it's too hot for me. Why did it go from 40 degrees to 90 degrees?
I still haven't written about the play piercing ritual or Saturday's concert or the late night art party or rooftops or meeting new people who live in L.A. or adventures in unpacking or sex or dating or writing or anything else that goes along with these things that have come up in the past few days. Unless that last sentence counts, which for now, that will do.
