Chrysalis

The days slip by one by one. I wake up. I go to work. I read on my lunch break in front of the fireplace at work. I go home. I run. I snuggle with my dog and watch television. I do much the same on my days off except for sleeping a little more, and watching a little more television. Every few days I dream about him, I get a little depressed. It's not a bad little rhythm or a bad little life for now, and the movement of it all is a little hypnotic.

It would be easy to fall into this pattern for a few months more, a few years more. A good book and a little good tv, dinner with a friend twice a month, and time could pass slowly away before my eyes before I shake myself into a more meaningful existence.

It's all a nice temporary solace. I can understand how so many people can get caught up in the little details of life and forget to live but for a few small moments of vacation each year, love every so often, or truly pure moments in which one's job is clear and one creates something amazing or helps someone else in doing it. It's been a rough year of it, and so I give myself permission to do this a little while. I feel alright about escaping into this coma of classic novels, work I enjoy but don't have to take home with me, and consumption instead of creation.

I am attracted to art. A pretty necklace, a well-written essay, and meticulously filmed and plotted movie or beautiful song all attract me like flowers with a bee. I have been obsessive in my consumption of these items for the last couple of years as I have descended into the pain. I have collected more wonderful music than I have time to enjoy. Every time I return a library book I check out ten more. I watch more television than is healthy.

I am still in chrysalis. I am still slumbering, changing, growing a little more. Consuming my stored energy and not putting myself out into the world. It's a trite image, but I'll break out of my cocoon some day and be something else. I will create, I will fly, I will go into the world a new creature whether I'm a moth or a butterfly.

I'm just not ready yet.

Update

Reading: Our Man in Havana by Graham Greene. I've been on a G.G. kick lately. I started by reading The End of the Affair, which was an amazing movie (which I saw mainly because of my crush on a certain, shall we say "fine," actor). I've read The Quiet American and a less than stellar Brighton Rock since then and can say I appreciate his humor and cynical world view.

Watching: Six Feet Under, Season One. I swear I know everyone else has already been smitten by this ages ago, but I was a poor graduate student with no premium cable channels. Now that it is showing on Bravo, I'm lapping every new episode up.

Listening: Say I am You by The Weepies