Have you guys noticed that it is August, already? It is August, and I am left standing here blinking and going when the hell did that happen? Because I remember when it was May and I was very worried about the heat and the sun and living through the Utah summer, and here I am at the tail end of it, alive and acclimated, a little bit bronzed despite all the sunscreen I’ve been slathering all over my previously porcelain skin (isn’t sunscreen supposed to screen you? from the sun?) and wondering where all the time went and what exactly I did with it.
I had a list of things I wanted to accomplish over the summer. Wait, here it is. Back in April, I had a list of things I wanted to do over the course of the summer, when the summer stretched shimmering before me, so full of promise and endless time and possibility. I wrote that list knowing that I had months and months ahead of me, blithely sure that I would make good use of each and every one of those long summer days. And here it is, August, and I see that time is, in fact, not a renewable resource, but the days march at you one by one in military formation, cruelly bowl you over, and keep marching on without a glance over their shoulders, off into the sunset and never to return. This to say, I didn’t get much of my list–the list I thought would be so easy! So doable! So satisfying!–done.
project: I laundered all the fabric I had lying around the house, and
there was a lot of fabric. Then, I laundered it again because it got
covered in gunk, lying around unfolded in the laundry room. I folded up
each length of fabric neatly, filed it all in a big shopping bag, and
it sat in the corner of my living room, until it got moved to my new
place, where it…sits in the corner of my living room. I gathered my
sewing supplies all up into one place, so I got that going for me. But
my sewing books are now packed in boxes, uh, somewhere. And the chances
of me finding them, and my sewing machine, and my cache of supplies
before the end of August is…it’s not good.
The crochet project: Well, who wants to play with wool in the middle of the summer? Who
wants to make a scarf? I’m just saying. I will give myself a pass on
this one, because someone has to.
Putting up curtains and pictures also get a pass, because I moved!
Ha ha! That is convenient! The new place has curtains (which I will
eventually swap out for ones that match, as soon as I figure out what
it is going to match with), and I have to unpack before I worry about hanging pictures, so I am not going to worry too much about that.
My bike, though–I got a bike!
I love my bike! I ride my bike all over, and it is a happy-making
thing, the riding of the bike. I am getting better at hills, and not
dying of heat stroke after riding 20 blocks at high noon, and I’ve
got baskets in which I haul things, and generally, it really is the best decision I ever made, my pretty bike.
those ambitious writing goals–well, I’ve talked about my issues with
writing. And doing things that make me happy, and the fact that it is
so strangely difficult
to do the things that make you happy. It’s something I’m still
struggling with and it still makes me mad because I want to boil it all
down to hello, you are being stupid. JUST WRITE FOR GOD’S SAKE. I’m
back in a workshop and writing flash fiction, now, and I’ve got the project with my friend
that is back underway, and maybe it is not all entirely fail, here. But
man, I really need to finish these book projects. They are piling up,
like things that get piled.
The summer’s not quite over yet,
though. Maybe I will unpack my apartment more quickly than I think I
will (though the piles of junk belay my optimism) and up will go some
pictures, and out will come the sewing machine. Maybe I will be
overcome with inspiration, and suddenly my memoir will pour out of me,
crashing like literary waves onto a deep and meaningful shore. There’s