Decisions, decisions

Like:
do I put clothing on?

do I get up from this very strange and uncomfortable position. no. wait. a very interesting part of my body has "fallen" asleep. this can only be acheived by sitting just so... a sort of a diagonal angle, one I discovered by sitting on the edge of a curb in Cambridge...

Funny how sitting on the edge of a curb can make you appear to be a social outcast when really you are just tired of standing, or walking and there are no good benches around, and the curb looks so inviting.

That isn't a problem in SB. Downtown there are lots of benches, generally peopled, but still, plenty for the sitting... but they face the stores which makes them ultimately less appealing than the curbs because there you get to watch the cars pass and spy in on the people, as they discuss where to park or eat.

I don't do this very often, and even less lately, having no car or time or ganas...

Do I do my research from home or do I drag myself to school? I left my bike there last night. Damn. walking is nice, but not with blistered feet. I tried breaking in newly re-discovered (evil) hiking sneakers... I will never buy Nike shoes again, they don't fit my feet right and they never broke in, they just always, invariably, rub my heels raw within minutes, causing lasting nuisance for days and defeating the entire purpose.

Theorem: Uncomfortable foot-wear = bad news.

I also have one on clothing: Uncomfortable (meaning any, really) clothing = necessary evil of doing business with normal people.

Decision 1 is made. I will get dressed before leaving the house. maybe. I wish I were liberated enough to just go out unclothed, and not care. Of course in this ridiculously puritanical country I would be arrested within minutes, unless I were running faster than the cops and then hiding, which would be a waste of time and energy and also an impossibility lacking comfortable footwear. Also, people would look really silly with no clothing and just shoes. It is a vicious cycle.

Decision 2 is made as my position has changed into another weird contortion. I am multi-tasking, stretching my back as I write. My laptop is resting on top of my feet, legs straight out in front of me, and I am folded in half, typing... If only my legs were longer I could stretch my upper back too...

Yesterday Alison and I spent our pre-class prep time stretching in the sun on the esplanade in front of our drab 70's style building. the courtyard is quite nice though, and the sun that is bleaching my hair daily was lovely, and she showed me some excellent stretches, though if any stodgy professors were observing, I may be losing decorum points...

Outside we can laugh too loud and nobody has a right to squelch our guffaws... Debra, perhaps the funniest woman on earth (nothing like the dry humor of an Irishwoman with the sensibilities of an Italian film professor) made me laugh almost to the point of tears, or of oxygen deprivation, with just a few well pointed comments.

Theorem: Laughing = good for you. really really.

Of course there are other things that made me sad yesterday, I wonder why my mood is so variable. I wonder if I am not just going a little loopy.

I have made other decisions, which may eventually come back to bite me in the butt... but. There is peace in deciding things that are gnawing at your psyche, and sometimes just the making of the decision improves your overall outlook on life. Even if it seems like the wrong decision, it may be the right one. Even if it is the right one, it may seem like the wrong one. Redundancy is my very best trait!

Then you just have to wait patiently for life to unfold. Which is excruciating if you are as horribly impatient as I.

Sigh.

Kirsten and Becca and Adrian are coming tonight!!! Late. But there is a fridge full of cheese and a closet full of wine and I will be baking banana bread this afternoon to combat the unmangiable effects of time on bananas.

I want to listen to Harry Belafonte. Just for a few minutes. I can't of course not having anything in my house. We used to have LP's and the 8-track reels when I was little, and we would dance around the kitchen and have bananas flambé, with triple sec and butter and sugar...

I made that for Isabella once too, and she loved it. Who wouldn't???

New position. elbows making contact with ground, arms layed flat and still fingers typing, arched back, rump in the air. Still no clothing. 'Tis nice to be alone for a few more minutes before returning to the social world.

Maybe I will buy a croissant at the café instead of trying to feed myself here yet another bowl of cheerios. My staple and unexciting breakfast of the energy deficient. Ok, now the soles of my feet are tingling, perhaps due to the pressure put on my knees, cutting off major circulation to lower legs. It also hurts to keep my neck up and look at the screen.

Ok. Last position. Back to flat on my tummy, half furry rug, half yucky rug. I think that I am a freak, but I hate unevenness. For example, if someone is giving me a back rub and they do one side but do not equally stimulate the other, it drives me crazy. Or if someone kisses one ear or one side of the neck and then fails to go do the other. urgh. Of course I never complain, I just feel uneven. It is also this way when I drive home. There are some turns that are not complete enough for me to feel like there is closure, and it bothers me deeply to not follow the same route home. Every time.

As a woman this could be deadly. They say that to not be stalked or to protect ourselves we should vary our routine on a regular basis, not creating patterns so as to avoid predictably unprotected moments in our aloneness. Why is it this way? Why should we always have to think about protecting ourselves from some insidious and ubiquitous evil? A vague threat that hovers simply because of our sexual apparatuses??? I don't vary my routine on purpose, but I guess I am sporadically different enough to be safe, however, I would really just rather not buy into the fear.

Now this is getting too heavy, and I am feeling sprightly and good, so I will stop writing... my fingers always leading me down the path to perdition. I am getting cold too. It really is time to stop, and then go. Ah yes. Wednesday calls again, but as if it were a Friday:)