Tonight I feel like the Loch Ness Monster. After almost two months of blogging inactivity, I emerge from a series of never-ending workdays, business trips, weekend travels, and sweet, brief moments of laziness to write this entry. No less than a few months ago, I was crafting daily missives that captured the world around me. These days, though, I have trouble getting a three-word reply out of my email inbox at the office. Something has to give. So tonight, as I lay myself down to sleep, I pause and pen a few words to remind myself that the world at large beckons beyond the myopia that surrounds my settling into a new lifestyle of obligations and relationships and so-called adulthood. Somewhere out there lurks another life and another being that captures the imagination and elevates the spirit beyond the here and now. Somewhere out there lurks the person I want to be outside of the office in a settled life that expands on the day-to-day responsibilities. Somewhere out there lurks the Loch Ness Monster that I might someday become - and I give myself a few minutes this evening for a sighting.
There is a certain energy that winds through the office near happy hour on Friday late afternoon, like the feeling of the last few minutes of school before summer break. The work is done for the week, the bags start to pack with computers and pens and notebooks, and people start to smile again. Sometimes, there is actual laughter in the office.
Outside, the sun is shining in San Francisco today. The bay sparkles something special, if one can avoid the snarled traffic painting the bridges. For me, this is no worry - I walk home, through the Financial District and down Columbus Street through the middle of North Beach. I know I am close to home when I hear the Powell-Taylor cable car clanking down the hill, last stop headed for Fisherman's Wharf at the base of Bay Street.
Now, it is Friday late afternoon; my bag is packing with its own pens and notebooks (soon, computer too). I am smiling as well. I can feel happiness soon to think of the sun at my back walking past Vesuvio ...
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