September 29, 2012 § Leave a comment
Sometimes I’m tired, overwhelmed, and lack the strength of mind to tackle the urgent but frustrating things that really need to get done. And sometimes the only way I know how to cope with it is to end the night with a nice cheesy slice of Sicilian pizza, a hot cup of lentil soup, and fried eggs with ketchup, and the knowledge that I can go for a therapeutic long run in the morning and burn off all that indulgence.
I don’t mean to complain. The only thing to do is to move forward, quickly and fervently when possible, slowly and surely when necessary. At a certain point I just have to acknowledge that putting things off is stupid and crippling. The same goes with worrying. As a species, we are all quite adaptable, and quite resilient.
I was rereading Franny and Zooey today, and realized that the snippet that Seymour wrote about his happy twenty-first birthday with the family was crushingly sad. The memory of joyful times that can never be experienced again really is a thing of tragedy. Sometimes it is a danger to remember.
My evening was spent in two museums: the Guggenheim and the Met. The Guggenheim was disappointing this time around, because of the space-cramping crowds and the underwhelming photo exhibit on display, but the Met is a treasure. It’s such a beautiful space architecturally, and the corridors to different rooms and exhibits are endless. I could go back dozens of times and still not see everything in there that requires a quiet moment to enjoy.
I am also slowly learning the value of not needing to make a decision right away. Sometimes all you need is a little bit of pleasant company now and then.