I just got off the phone with a friend. The conversation was good, but she could tell I was distracted. She asked me how my day went: Not too bad at all. Had RAMP training for the new job at a hard cider bar (check it out here). Then we went out back, grilled up some grub on the open fire wood grill, I learned what a mountain pie was, and I helped transfer some cider to its new barrel-y home. I came home, made some strawberry sorbet, and watched a great documentary on Tig Notaro. But sometimes, there’s this disquiet in my internal monologue; at moments throughout the day I noticed it. It never fails to mildly unnerve me, because normally my mind never stops.
Her insightful compliment on my last blog post fell on deaf ears, and so she asked me, what was up?
I couldn’t really explain it all that well to her. Afterwards,the more I thought about it, the more I realized it boiled down to one word, a word that has inserted itself into my lexicon of late: timing. I can’t say it’s been on a right or wrong side lately. It’s just been present. Perhaps what’s bothering me about it is it’s insistence, it’s determination to be a component for the foreseeable future. It affects my intuition and makes me second guess my choices, where I (dis)place my energy, and then I obsess over how all the minutia may end up compounding.
Maybe the solidification of a work schedule reified the idea that, for a while, this is permanent. Maybe it’s just the dregs left over from two days of imbibing (which, now that I recall, do affect me more when I don’t drink regularly). I dunno. Maybe I was just a little home sick today… that phone call thrust into harsh light how much I miss certain people. I generally appreciate the state of technology, the ubiquity of social media and its ability to keep us all connected, no matter the distance. But it also makes the lack of physical contact that much more tangible…. hmm. The phrase “wish you were here” isn’t cutting it today, and I doubt it’ll cut it tomorrow.
Current Jam: “Stolen Dance” Milky Chance