This morning I woke up to a cold cold room with the wind banging the windows in their frames and the rain plinking incessantly. I ate my bowl of cheerios in the solitude of my room...mostly because if I eat it in the kitchen, someone will come in and want to talk to me. I don't like talking to people in the morning. I don't like it. I don't even like having to acknowledge people in the morning. It's awkward and unnecessary. I plan almost everything in order to avoid any human contact before I have to really start my day and start talking and doing things. Does this make me a bad person? I don't think so. This morning, I didn't plan efficiently enough and had to round up a great deal of my things from the kitchen before braving the terror of the winds. Almost all of my house mates were in the kitchen. Simone, who I really like (in medium sized doses because she is quite the handful...as small as she is), but who I'm sure thinks I hate her said she'd walk with me to the tube and I told her she didn't have to wait because I normally walk on my own with my ipod pretending as best I can that I am in a car. I think I hurt her feelings. The truth is, it was too early to start talking to people. I wasn't ready for it. I must have felt really bad about it because after my 15 minute walk (normally ten) to the tube against unrelenting winds and spitting cold rain, armed only with my weak umbrella that kept turning inside out and making me look like a fool...I thought I saw her in the huge crowd gathered outside the turnstiles (?) waiting to be allowed onto the overcrowded platform for a train that was delayed because of RAIN (and probably wind), and I ran up to 'her' to ask how long she had been waiting. It wasn't her, however. It was another very small Indian girl with the same coat, same hair, and same orange scarf. Who would have thought. So...I ask you...does my desire to be left alone in the morning make me a bad person?
This afternoon I kept accidentally getting on trains going in the wrong direction because I was daydreaming/feeling blue. Work was a constant reminder of my inability to EVER complete a task given to me as they never end and they just keep piling up on top of each other and beating me down into this wimpering pile of wet wool coat and crappy umbrella. No babies today. Babies come at the end of the week. I ended up a good 30 minute train ride in the opposite direction from home, but I had bought myself a Galaxy Caramel chocolate bar and I sat quietly in the back of the crowd on the platform licking chocolate and caramel off of my fingers and waiting patiently until I could own an entire tube door without having to squeeze in like a lemming with the masses.
I ate hummous for dinner.
I'm a little homesick. I'm a little confused. Sometimes life feels like such a gift...the good and the bad...I like the title of the Nada Surf album 'The Weight Is a Gift' because it truly is...but I don't always feel like it. Sometimes I get caught up in the mundane plodding of my existence. I get tired of bundling up in my coat and scarf every day. I want to be free of my coat. I get tired of the ticking of the clock and my inability to feel certain about anything I feel. I want to be free of my inability to be content. I prayed, this afternoon, that God would renew my faith in the uncertainty of life, that I might be overwhelmed with the joy of it, that I might be able to trust in the weight of my thoughts and emotions.