stepping outside

the quiet solace of a library.  which i have not sought in years.  i guess i've created different spaces for myself, in which to think, write, and study -- the last of which i haven't really had to do in years, which may also explain the prolonged absence of this hushed environment in my life.

the new bass libray on campus is quite nice.  well-lit.  dark-wood desks and tables.  plenty of private nooks.  comfortable chairs.  my one complaint is that the entrance requires passage through security, and the gates beep upon admittance of every single person.  so...relative quiet.

what brings me here?  killing time before meeting up with yvonne for coffee.  not at home because patrice is having rich over for dinner, and i am in a solitary mood.  not in lab because i didn't go in today.  not in a restaurant because i'm not hungry.  not in a bar because i'm not thirsty. 

i have approached this blogging thing all wrong.  i've treated it like a diary, for all to read.  who are you to read my thoughts?  doesn't matter, 'cause i've posted them here for all to see.  i've removed some older posts, ones that really didn't need to be public.  they're helpful and interesting for me to look back on, so i've moved them over to another blogging site that allows posts to categorized at public & private (livejournal).  i like the feel of blogger.com, though, so i'll keep my public posts here.

how would i like to approach my blog?  i like things to be meaningful.  i like to tell stories.  i think others get more out of "recaps" of weekends and events than i do, but such recaps do serve to record what has happened in my life.  and i have a horrible memory.  for a while, in my paper diary, i wrote down what i did every weekend, because i was doing so many things, and not remembering when i did what, or even what i did.  

(aside: i'm like that with people, too.  i ran into a college friend completely by chance on the streets of somerville this past weekend.  i could not remember her name, and only hours later did it come to me how well i had known her -- we'd been studying abroad in france at the same time.  she in aix en provence, me in grenoble.  i visited her in aix, and we also met up in the loire valley for spring break. i traveled for a week with her, in a foreign country, and i could not remember her name.  nor that i'd spend an extensive amount of time with her.  i forget how i met her -- class?  dorm?  mutual friend?  i know she is jewish, though.  is she that forgettable?  am i that horrible of a friend?  is there something wrong with my memory?)

so, do i use this space to catalogue my life-events, big and small, ultimate-related and not?  or do i keep talking about my struggles with relationships, career, and emotions?  it may be that the workings of my inner world are more real and more memorable to me than external happenings.  perhaps it's time i stepped outside my head, and payed more attention to the world around me rather than the messed up world inside me.

i'll be OK

(cue Aesop Rock...)

it hit me today...finally, and completely, that i'll be OK.  one would think that a feeling of peace would have accompanied this realization.  but instead of contentment, i felt a precarious anxiety, an apprehensive resignment.  like walking on thin ice, wondering when or if i'll break through.  cranking the jack-in-the-box, anticipating its sudden explosion.  trying to blow up a balloon to its maximum size, but fearing that it'll burst from being over-filled. 

because even though i know i'll be OK, i still don't know what this entails, what my future has in store for me -- will i get what i want? or at least, what i think i want right now?  i'm left in a state of limbo -- bracing for excitement or disappointment, for either extreme.

but that's OK. i can take care of myself. i will find a way to survive -- and maybe even thrive. and i have enough sure-things to look forward to in the meantime, to distract me from thinking about my big bad scary future. 

bikes were made to be crashed

...'cause if you don't crash, you ain't ridin' hard enough. or, you're just plain stupid.

the ingredients: slick ground from the overnight rain. thin road bike tire not providing much traction. dropped sunglasses, which had been hastily shoved into spandex, as the overcast morning rendered them extraneous. urgent braking -- no reason to stop suddenly, but the conditions were such that a moderate application set the bike in a tail spin. a quick moment of realizing what was happening -- bike sliding sideways, tires slipping -- before i hit the ground. thigh, elbow first. feet jarred from the clipless pedals, bike in my wake. then a recoil, and the back of my head slammed into the ground.

when i'd first met tara that morning, the first thing she said to me, as she stared at me in modest wonderment, was, "where is your helmet?!" half-asleep, i'd set out without it. i turned back to get it. good thing, too, as it probably saved me a concussion. as it was, my head was ringing. then aching.

the plastic cover came off. i placed it back on, not wanting tara, who was a ways behind me, to know that i'd hit my head. i limped back to my dropped sunglasses, the cause of my braking and crashing, which were sitting in a puddle. the way the water sat on the lenses made them appear cracked. "awesome," i thought. but really, they were fine. more fine than me.

tara inquired why i was off my bike. i pointed to the glasses in the puddle. she then noticed my leg, and its road rash, and pointed out that my elbow was bleeding. so it was. it would later achieve a dull ache, and cry out when rested or touched against armrests and tables. my crash revealed, i played down its severity, and the scare i'd gotten from the impact of head upon concrete.

my lessons learned: don't bring sunglasses on cloudy mornings. don't stick them in the back of spandex shorts. brake carefully on slick ground. always go back for forgotten helmets.