strike that

yes, really: kickball.

It’s funny – both funny strange and funny ha-ha – that after this summer of unchosen motion I am now so reluctant to stay still. I am feeling restless. Restlessness probably borne of sitting in front of my laptop all day in my unfurnished dining room, but still. Restless all the same.

Here I am in Portland. It’s been one week. And so far I’ve been on an all night bicycle ride, found the co-op and the post office, sampled a 24 hour coffee shop and a 24 hour diner with Ty, seen a bluegrass show, hit up the Burgerville with Nikki, sipped a beershake at the Kennedy School with Deb & Nopporn, and watched the moon rise twice. There’s no shortage of To Do here. Not to mention I can now enjoy all those little pleasures that don’t come with life on the road, e.g. cooking and mail and tomato plants and the New York Times on my porch. And I joined a kickball league.

So it turns out I’m not actually restless to leave.

I think I’m just restless for what’s next. It’s starting to feel like the end of summer and that brings out a little panic in me, a desire to dash about and fight off the imminent hibernation with all I’ve got.

Also? I really need a fucking job.

(Words that came up in today’s spellcheck: unchosen, Burgerville, beershake.)

posted by tortaluga @ 5:17 PM