Again
I’m a bit out of practice with this. Please pardon my dust.
Two weeks ago, my first academic year of graduate school ended when I submitted the last of three final papers. After working continuously for nearly 10 days writing, editing and rewriting, thinking the entire time of everything else I would have rather been doing, it was a bit of surprise when I caught myself quite literally sitting and staring at the wall for half an hour, wondering what I should do now that I had, well… nothing to do.
In much the same way I find myself in a similar place with regards to this webpage—I’m not sure what I want now that I have both the time and inclination to do something with it, now that I really ought to give a thought to making something presentable and meaningful, rather than the usual cast-off ramblings and vague dribbles about who-knows-what. And in many ways, this page is long outlived its usefulness, if it ever had any, but—
Last summer, I put my camera down and stepped away from the keyboard for what proved to an extremely eventful three months. After Monste(rrat)’s wedding I had noticed how much I’d taken to living life on video replay: events and places and people assiduously recorded and noted and documented, and only afterward, through reflection, considered and felt. I had become more interested in capturing a good snapshot than enjoying the moment in which it occurred, more concerned with remembering and relaying a humorous anecdote than participating in the conversation as it happened.
For the rest of the summer I committed to living my life in front of the lens, rather than behind it, as an active participant in the story rather than an observer. It was, all things considered, quite possibly the best three months ever—languid, carefree and filled with the kind of openness that impending departures engenders among friends—and while my memories of that time are vivid and colorful I have nearly nothing to show for it, just a handful of photos and random memorabilia picked up here and there. Nothing that accurately describes how meaningful that time was, especially when compared to the piles and piles of pictures, notes and stories I’ve collected from other, far less interesting periods in my life. My packrat tendencies bristle at this glaring gap in my scrap record.
Two weeks ago, summer began again. This time, I hope to save some of it.
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