Today, I’m not feeling so great. I don’t know what this feeling is, but I don’t like it. Actually, I’ve been feeling this for the last two, maybe even three days. I’m not doing anything I really like, and I feel like I don’t have enough time in the day to do what I really want to do. What I’d really like to do right now is to run. Run forever, but my ankle is still so weird since that last injury and I’m trying to hold out for a long run, which I’m running 16 miles tomorrow. Still, I want the feeling of running right now. I miss it. I miss that freedom.
I also miss the freedom I get from wandering around, and I hate that I’m unable to leave when I want to, because of school. I have a time consuming fibers project due in about two weeks, as well as a massive Renaissance art paper on the 17th. I know that I can easily knock them out, but they suck up all of my time—and not like the fun way that art used to suck up all of my time. If I had my way right now, I’d ignore these projects, and spend my art time, testing out that stack of yupo in my room, or taking photographs of the leaves that are still changing. It’s such a beautiful day outside, and I want to experience it.
So generally, I don’t know where this melancholia has come from, but I’m not going to let it wash over me. In about two weeks, I’ll be in Seattle, doing everything I wish I could be doing right now, going to a Peaches concert, and being happy. As soon as I post this, I’m going to go on a bike ride, take in everything that today has to offer, and then hit the books. I love my life, and I know it’s Ok and even good to feel sad every once in a while, but it’s been two days too many, and I’m going to take back what’s mine.
