On February, Your Twenties, and Joan Didion

Hello, it’s been a week or so since my last post. Haven’t been particularly inspired by anything; sometimes you just need to live to be inspired.

Friday night became quite the extravaganza I didn’t expect and normally wouldn’t like as I was more or less a sleeping-and-eating machine the next day and my plans to be productive were chucked out the window. But it was fun in the way that only spontaneous nights out are where your company, in this case two of my colleagues, are too sib to say goodnight to. Sometimes I know I need to have the kind of fun that’s expected of someone in their twenties, even if I’m just hanging on to mine by a few short months. I am not suggesting that all fun stops in your thirties. It just evolves. I am looking forward to my thirties very much. I think it will be a very transformational time for me, but I’m not yet sure how.

Anyway, I can’t lie and say I’m not relieved that February has come and gone. It has been a very demanding and difficult month for many reasons, but fortunately peppered in with a number of fun memories, like girl’s night out with Britt and Kylie, Andrea’s birthday party, and Valentine’s dinner with Arie and Zoe. February is a short month, but sometimes it feels endless with the backdrop of the most gloomy weather and that palpable tension that waiting for springtime brings. Even if March is choc full of cold and gray weather, at least it heralds in the promise of April.

I don’t feel my healthiest right now; I’ve still got my winter “coat”, if you will. I know as it gets warmer I’ll walk more and be more motivated to move. I am feeling sustained, or maybe distracted, by my pledge to read at least a book a week. I’m twenty pages out from the end of Slouching Towards Bethlehem by Joan Didion. There are parts of her prose and storytelling that is spellbinding, but I must admit, certain essays contain language so dense that I need time to unpack it and look up references. Sometimes I just won’t and I will compromise with a vague sense of her tone. It’s intimidating at times, but I don’t feel stupid reading her work because I know it was a different time and you don’t get the feeling she is esoteric for the sake of being esoteric. She’s just smart.

I want to be that smart. So I will keep reading!


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