A long weekend full of promised (and expected) beginnings but also of unforeseen (unexpected) retrospectives.
It’s hour 47 of the new year, but here I sit, resolutions-less and inauspicious. 2017 bodes well, don’t get me wrong, but feelings are definitely different this time around. No mad rush of sentimentality, no contrived collections of Year in Review photo dumps. Insert self-conscious head scratch here.
I spent this past weekend driving all over this northern chunk of Virginia I call home now — haphazardly socializing in odd and familiar circles. It’s funny because spending time with old friends just reminds me that I need (that I want) to spend more time with these people. That these are the relationships I want to hold onto, to spend time on, to grow.
It’s been a weekend of quietly commemorating the pared-down master list of mass-text recipients. No ping parades at midnight; rather, a steady stream of good wishes marching through my phone at odd hours like 3 pm and 8:30 am. It’s more about the person on the other end than the timing of the messages, this time round.
It feels good, and odd, and good again, in turn. It’s a different ladisonmee scribbling these late-night words of commemoration and memory-keepsaking, but also much the same — munching on gummies for continued willpower, tenaciously refusing to fall completely into bed until the blog itch has been scratched.
Semi-relatedly, I gotta get myself a new computer. This blogging-via-phone thing is getting really old, really fast.