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.