paisleypiper's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- walks talks and meatball dinners To begin � a little housekeeping. A short break from the rising waters of work and studies that keep flooding around me � I am reminded of that Silverstein poem �I�m Being Swallowed by a Boa Constrictor.� I feel like I�ve been away, although I am here all the time, at my old grinding computer, working on other things, tempted to check in, but afraid that I would fall in � that is what I get for writing long entries. If I wrote short entries, it would not be such a problem. So I think, given that I have six more weeks before graduation, I will transform myself into a short entry writer. Corresponding. Earlier this afternoon I received a friendly e-mail from my first serious boyfriend, and I think, the first person I ever loved in an adult way. I am struck by how he still sounds the same, how familiar he seems although I no longer know all of the details of his life. We both feel a need to correspond, now and then, probably what many would characterize as �keeping in touch.� We always were far better friends than lovers, but, in the intense years between 17 and 22 that becomes a distinction difficult to sort out. Today, I�m thankful to be in touch with one other person who knew me well at one point and I�m looking forward to the adventure of sharing more about our lives, casually, over e-mail. Quinn is not a jealous person, so she does know about my correspondence, we talked about it, and she knows, like I do, that meeting people with whom one shares a strong connection is not routine. The type of connection where it is easy to communicate about the deep topics, the weighty stuff of life that fascinates me and entices me the most. Thinking about, talking about, writing about these sorts of questions and thoughts gets me up in the morning, keeps me going, keeps me able to see the world in such a way that life is worthwhile. Walks.Quinn and I took an extremely long walk this afternoon through three neighborhoods. With the pipsqueak pup on his long leash, we set out wearing our jeans and t-shirts to breathe the fresh air, feel the new spring sun on our faces, get some exercise and watch the quiet early growth of plants and trees. We felt adventurous because our city is extremely pedestrian unfriendly. Cars speed through streets that cut up our midtown neighborhoods, there are few lights to privilege the movement of traffic � everything about this city boils down to fear, fear that people will not live here if they cannot get from one place to another quickly in their cars, fear that everyone will move to the suburbs if they cannot get places quickly in their cars � and so we must run with our lives entrusted to sure footedness and keen timing as traffic wooshes past. Forget about the crosswalks. I walk all the time and cannot remember the last time anyone stopped for me in a crosswalk, even though I stop for people in crosswalks. The attitude of traffic resembles more a stampede than the orderly operation of motor vehicles and pedestrians can feel the impact of their speed in the air. But we have a certain amount of skill at this, certainly, built up over the years. That, combined with a detailed mental map of streets and direction make it possible to get out on a long, long walk during the best part of a Sunday afternoon. We didn�t talk much, just walked and observed, both of us a bit preoccupied, working to calm down the noise and stay in the moment. It is possible to be extremely happy walking down a sidewalk. Happier than spending money or eating, even. But for me it takes a concerted effort to actively observe and feel instead of reacting to everything that must get done. Reaction is not a healthy mode, but, I am afraid I spend too much time doing it. Meatball dinner. Last night we had what Quinn�s family calls a meatball dinner. It has nothing to do with spaghetti, actually, it is when someone meets a friend or family-member�s new intimate. It all began when Quinn�s sister, so many of her family�s language traditions began with Jena, was having people over for a meet (fill in male name here) dinner. They heard it as a meatball dinner and arrived hungry for a big spaghetti feast. Instead they met someone new. Last night, we met our friend L.�s new person, and we had a great deal of fun. I�m extremely happy for them because they seem happy and enjoying the intensity of the beginning of something grand. I�m glad to see L. happy again. Hooray. And so I need to get back to all of my other writing. More later. 5:12 p.m. - 2003-03-23 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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