There are no pictures, read at your own risk

Oh…hi…come here often?  I don’t.  Let’s see, last time I was here I was pondering the complex experience of moving around and traveling and having different “homes.”  Since then, I have been:

Trying to get used to living with my family again, after 5 years of only being home for breaks and holidays (it’s an adjustment, but also a blessing, and much more fun than being alone)

Looking for a job (huzzah, and it’s going so well)

Getting familiar with this quaint little area I live in now that we call Old Town, and occasionally venturing into “The District” to get cultured and sophisticated (The District not to be confused with District 12, 13, or any other Panem Districts)

Even with the job search and trying to get some volunteering going, I seem to have a lot of time.  At first that time was a little bit staggering, especially since there were no overhanging assignments casting shadows of guilt and dread over it.  As I slowly came to realize that all the things I’d mentally listed as “I’ll do it when I’m done with school” (i.e. read more, practice more, write more, brush up on Arabic) were now real, physical possibilities – and if I didn’t start doing them now I might get a job and forget about them – the sheer volume of possible things I could do with my day precluded my choosing which thing to give a real go at.  I think that’s what they call First World Problems.  Poor me.

Then I bought some used books.  I made a list of the books I want to read (it’s a really, really long list).  I started a fresh notebook.  I got out my Arabic flashcards.  I went to The Phillips Collection and saw Degas, Monet, Cezanne, Chagall, Picasso.  I went to a free concert.  I started working on a Chopin prelude.  And then I started writing this blog entry.

Here’s the plan, readers (hi Mom): I’m going to read at least 600 pages of fiction and 200 pages of nonfiction a week.  I finally have time.  Putting the goal in number of pages makes it sound a little bit like an assignment, and I originally thought to number it in books rather than pages, but since some books are 200 pages and some are 500 I felt like that wasn’t fair.  Then I’ll write here about one read per week.  I’ll do something new every week (I doubt I can run out, there are so many things to do and see in this area) and write about it here.  At least, that’s what I intend to do, and maybe since it’s not a requirement from an academic authority it will actually be willingly accomplished.  I also have other goals, the accomplishment of which can’t really be entertainingly represented here (like, practicing and non-blog writing).  If I’m going to be unemployed, the least I can do is be productive in the things I’ve been wanting to have time for for ages.

To kick this off, I’m going to do a quick wrap-up of the reading and the new experience, all-in-one, right here, right now.
I didn’t read any new books this week.  Oops.  I did start one, though: Hyperion by Dan Simmons.  Maybe by this time next week I’ll have finished it.
Two nights ago, we went to the Kennedy Center for one of their free nightly concerts.  The featured musical experience was a New York based band that covers 1960s/1970s pop songs from Pre-Revolutionary Iran. The lead singer wore a slinky blue dress, but her accompanying band, mostly middle aged men, had hair of varying degrees of too long to be socially acceptable for non-musicians, and wore wrinkled suits.  Got to love musicians.  But they were good, because thankfully for musicians, fashion has no direct bearing on talent.  That’s a poor write-up of what was an excellent performance, but I’ve already written so much here and you’ve probably already stopped reading.

If I can truly stick to my goals, then I will be seeing you soon.


2 thoughts on “There are no pictures, read at your own risk

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