Itchings and Wishings

No, no rashes, just itchings for spring and freedom.

I got a taste of both today, as I took a mental health day.

Last night there were some interesting revelations, and now I have a bit of romantic drama all my own. It will remain that, though--drama and wishings. The situation would be thrilling and exciting if anything was possibly going to happen. It won't, though, so wishing it must remain.

I "slept in" until 7.30 and made my way to UPS. My awesome friend sent me a book! Yay!

I decided to go into the city, so I took the 6 train up to 86th. I found a sunny spot under a little flowering tree, and read and wrote and took pictures. The wind was still going, but the sun sometimes won out.

I thought about going into the Met...but I just didn't feel like it. What I did feel like was getting warmer, so I found a sunny ledge on the outside of the Met, and lay down. It felt wonderful to soak in the sun, and to listen to the goings-on around the museum. There was a gaggle of tour busses out front, pedestrians strolling down 5th Avenue, and a street vendor who kept tossing, and thus jingling, his keys. Annoying even at twenty yards.

I walked from the Met over to Lexington, and window-shopped my way down to 68th Street. Then I took a train down to Union Square and I lunched at the new, shiny Whole Foods. Browsed quickly in the Strand, but didn't feel that willpower and patience to stay more than a few minutes. So I left and came home.

On the train back to Queens, this big guy with a cane "sang." It was a combination of chicken and Jingle Bells. I hid my grin as best I could; thankfully he drowned out my muffled giggles.

Now it's 5.30 and I don't know what to do with the rest of my self-prescribed day off. I wanted to do something for myself today...the problem is that I don't know what that might be. I have completely lost track of who I am without teaching. Or that self has just disintegrated. No, that's not true; otherwise that art stuff a few weeks ago would not have triggered those tears. I don't know how to paint, or throw pots, or whatever. I did a little writing, and I'll try to head to the gym in a few minutes, but nothing special that makes me feel like the old me. Whoever the hell that might be.