Hi readers,
On Sundays, I like to take long walks. I like the feeling of deliberate non-purpose, and I feel it best when I'm moving. My thoughts tumble through my surroundings like river stones, turning through the infinite landscape in quick somersaults, allowing me to smooth my edges and get ready for the week ahead.
On Sundays, I like to take long walks. I like the feeling of deliberate non-purpose, and I feel it best when I'm moving. My thoughts tumble through my surroundings like river stones, turning through the infinite landscape in quick somersaults, allowing me to smooth my edges and get ready for the week ahead.
I'm amazed by where my mind goes undirected. I have no way to connect these Sunday thoughts to any type of concrete value, nothing to measure their worth. They are not assessed by their relation to the latest New York Times Magazine or what my boss thinks is important or what my father told me about life when I was five. They do not build on each other or connect to larger ideas. There is something soothing about the way thoughts expand when they are not under pressure. Like clouds.
For example, I think about the people walking in front of me and how long they've known each other. They fall out of the current and I consider the navel oranges sitting happily piled in front of the bodega on my corner. I think about each restaurant I pass and what it might be like to eat there. The places I've already eaten, I ironically don't spend very much time considering, as if they have been checked off on some list of potential human experiences. I like to examine sidewalk debris, discarded flyers and worn confetti outside of night clubs. There is something about an empty green bottle next to a park bench on Sunday morning that creases my mind into a smile. I don't usually listen to music or do anything except just walk, talking to myself amicably, feeling the solitary strength that comes from not being told what to do.
There is an art to not being told what to do. It involves being comfortable in my own thoughts, a pool I half-step hesitantly into each week and dive into headfirst each summer. In preparation for the summer (and because Monday has been depressing on a level between bad tv and overcooked pasta) here is a quick list of things I like to think about...when I don't have anything I have to think about:
1. My favorites. Like a 13 year old girl, I try to make lists of my favorite movies, nail polish colors, streets to walk on, cities to visit and ice cream frozen yogurt toppings. It helps me to develop opinions.
2. My family. How old are my nephews? What does my mother like to eat for breakfast? When is the last time I spoke to my aunt? It's important to think about family.
3. Where I've been. Literally: where have I been this week? This year? I have a terrible memory and I need all the practice remembering stuff I can get. Also, it gives me hope that one day I might get better at telling appropriate stories.
4. How I should stop talking to myself. Seriously. Life goal. But, like most of the things that make me look crazy (taking out the trash in my pajamas, going to the same grocery store multiple times in the same day, drinking 3 vodka martinis during "girls night") I love talking to myself.
Long summer days are here...if you didn't have time for a walk on Sunday...just leave work early and take one today. It's important.
For example, I think about the people walking in front of me and how long they've known each other. They fall out of the current and I consider the navel oranges sitting happily piled in front of the bodega on my corner. I think about each restaurant I pass and what it might be like to eat there. The places I've already eaten, I ironically don't spend very much time considering, as if they have been checked off on some list of potential human experiences. I like to examine sidewalk debris, discarded flyers and worn confetti outside of night clubs. There is something about an empty green bottle next to a park bench on Sunday morning that creases my mind into a smile. I don't usually listen to music or do anything except just walk, talking to myself amicably, feeling the solitary strength that comes from not being told what to do.
There is an art to not being told what to do. It involves being comfortable in my own thoughts, a pool I half-step hesitantly into each week and dive into headfirst each summer. In preparation for the summer (and because Monday has been depressing on a level between bad tv and overcooked pasta) here is a quick list of things I like to think about...when I don't have anything I have to think about:
SUMMER THOUGHTS
2. My family. How old are my nephews? What does my mother like to eat for breakfast? When is the last time I spoke to my aunt? It's important to think about family.
3. Where I've been. Literally: where have I been this week? This year? I have a terrible memory and I need all the practice remembering stuff I can get. Also, it gives me hope that one day I might get better at telling appropriate stories.
4. How I should stop talking to myself. Seriously. Life goal. But, like most of the things that make me look crazy (taking out the trash in my pajamas, going to the same grocery store multiple times in the same day, drinking 3 vodka martinis during "girls night") I love talking to myself.
Long summer days are here...if you didn't have time for a walk on Sunday...just leave work early and take one today. It's important.
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