I spotted a picnic table in a Reykjavik park. Framed by low trees, it stood, sturdy and sunlit, off a lakefront pedestrian path. It would be so nice for a late spring picnic, I thought. With thermos tea and portable sandwiches. With someone special, romantically special or just life special.
Yesterday morning I gave a two weeks notice at work. I don’t have another job lined up. I am not even going to look until end of August. I didn’t have to resign – in a way.
I don’t have a good story to tell or any particularly noble aspirations. I’m just taking a break.
While this sounds exciting and luxurious, it’s also, as I’ve said before, scary and unsettling.
In the following ways.
A month ago, I resigned from the job that brought me out to the Bay Area.
It’s OK, I started a new one this week, closer to the City.
It was a right decision. It was the time to leave. It was past the time. Continue reading “In Between”
I’ve been sleeping well for the past 4 weeks. Even on Sunday nights after tango, I finish dancing at 9 in Oakland, I fall asleep by 10:30 in the Mission and sleep all the night through. I’ve had decent energy, too, consistently throughout the waking hours. Continue reading “I Am Floating”
I am hungry for closeness, emotional and physical. I am hungry, but it’s OK. This is a lean time, a time to fast. I subsist on the breadcrumbs I pick here and there.
And here you show up with what appears like food. It smells nice. It looks nice. It’s so close, I can feel the warmth and can’t resist taking a bite: it’s tasty.
But I know it’s poison. And you know that, too. How can you not?
Love letters understated 