You would think, with ten days to go in the countdown, I’d be feverishly working on something.
Alas, the fact is that I stayed up till 2:30 a.m. finishing Deathly Hallows, and today I had to clear the living room of my packing crates. My brain is still trying to reconcile that I’m not in the Land of PDM any more. These are my streets I’m walking down, my bed I’m sleeping in now, not some bizarre facsimile, and it’s still not right.
The brain rebels. That curious feeling I noted before, of a sense of unreality as I walked through the campus, I have now identified: it was relief. Now, I sit in my club chair in the living room, looking out onto College Street, wondering what Roger’s last name is so I can call him to come fix the air conditioner in my attic study, wondering what I’ll do tonight. There is no concert. There is no culminating event. There is not a steady stream of people barging in on me, asking my opinion or giving theirs. There is no laughter from the lobby, no memory of some wonderful class I’ve seen today, no anticipation of tomorrow’s events. I have to deal with the openness of reality.
Feh.
It’s far too hot to work in my study, so any extended creative work is out of the question for the moment. I could go for a walk with my music Moleskine (remember that passage in my life?) and try to come up with more songs for Day in the Moonlight, or begin sketching out the symphony. But my brain won’t work.
Perhaps tomorrow.
Well, did the last Harry Potter book live up to expectations? You know I am not a follower so I don’t need a plot summary, just your impressions of how she finished the series and connected all the dots.
I am incredibly surprised to see yet another adult engaging in the stereotypically teenage act of blogging, but I suppose it’s not quite impossible, eh?
You know, I think I’ll hazard a guess and say you’re a Democrat.
It’s interesting to read an adult’s perspective on post-GHP life; all one hears from the teenage community is a series of moans and gripes about flying time. It’s rather surprising to realize that adults are also plagued by boredom, as my parents are usually either busy or relaxing. Until now, I held the unfortunately mistaken belief that adults did not have the capacity to do “nothing.” Perhaps I’m just too hopelessly intertwined in stereotypes; I must make a conscious effort to step outside my own shoes from now on.
Which brings me to my next, and final statement:
God forbid, you wouldn’t be a size 10.5?
Best regards,
Alvin
Terry:
I think it will make a better movie than a book, although there was much to admire in it. I was right about more than I was wrong in my predictions, I’ll put it that way. Snape was totally vindicated, and in almost exactly the way I predicted. All the dots were admirably connected, if a bit splashily.
Alvin:
Me, a Democrat? Nooo. No. Not at all.
Well, a bit.
And what’s so stereotypically teenaged about blogging?
It’s not boredom, post-GHP, it’s the nothing that’s getting to me. You know what it was like. And now, there’s nothing but “real life,” which is just not as intense as the Magic Square. Good thing, too, mind you, but it takes some readjustment to get back into appreciating the slow rhythms of every day.
No, I’m not a size 10.5. You have to step into some fairly petite 8.5’s to walk in my shoes. 🙂
Must……. suppress……… comment…..
Whew. That was close.
Glad to have you back in Newnan. Reading of your final days in the PDM world was bringing me flashbacks of my time 21 years ago in my own parallel world as what I suppose was a PDM. As a mouse, you get only one. Alas, you are more fortunate. We need to drink a bottle of wine (or 2) sometime…
Please, Turff, there are children in the room! Not that I didn’t already consider my straight line.