Jennifer A. Chin (cswallow) wrote,
Jennifer A. Chin

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The breach narrows

It's been a weird weekend; halfway between productivity and not. Time spent with friend of many years, doing simple things like munching on Maldonado's breadsticks, playing Scrabble, throwing the frisbee around. There is nothing, nothing like being with a friend who you have known while growing up. I feel all the time the strength of our mutual admiration, a certainty of one another's characters - these are people we trust infinitely, who would never embarrass each other, who never posture to make an impression, who simply relax now, whose words are infinitely valuable. It's a good feeling. And we impress ourselves on each other, help one another make decisions that are difficult or harrying. We witness each other's lives and it is sweet.

This morning is slightly overcast. I have work to do but instead I am staring at the soft gray glow of the pine and watching birds swooping through its branches. There's a light tapping sound coming from outside; I think maybe a woodpecker has found our trellis, or a nearby tree, to be worthy of pecking, a squirrel forages and small chickadee-type birds hop gracefully, eyeing the ground for seeds. I feel timeless suddenly, suspended between worlds and tasks and I want to draw it out forever.

My goal as of late has been to live for the future, to dwell less on what has past. But in this endeavor I believe I've begun to miss the present. It's the worst mistake anyone can make. I hardly even write anymore. I wonder about that: I think once upon a time writing connected me with the world around me, helped me to immerse myself in it. But also writing of the world requires a certain separation from that world, the ability to draw back and see it at arm's length before diving back in for the microscopic details. Am I always living in the world now? Or am I always drawn back? Where are the answers?

One of my good friends quoted one of my Livejournal icons recently "Into the breach once more, another city broken open..." (from a poem), for he has just gone to Japan for his work. I think of that, half-twisted in envy. I haven't had use for that icon in too long. What daring do I feel these days? I feel drawn back, pulled in, moderate. I know this is not a byproduct of age, so then where is it from? It's sad to feel this way, when I know that I am a happy girl in truth. But I am also bound, my life reads like one enormous to-do list, filled with stodgy black bullet points and neat letter marching across the white paper. - Go to dance - Write article - Clean room - write homework assignment - work on quilt - eat lunch with friends. I don't know how to break from this cycle, how to inject myself back into living and the present, but something must change before the joyful me fades so much that I can't recover her at all.
Tags: about cs, leadership
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