friday! friday! friday!

i am beginning to hate computers. i never thought i would say that, but it's true. (actually, i have said it many a time, usually when my internet is being fluky.. but this time i mean it.) i sit in front of a computer for 7 hours a day, and that's just while i am at work. unfortunately, when i get home i usually end up sitting in front of it for another hour or two, which adds up to about half of my day total. i prefer sitting in front of a computer to sitting in front of the TV, but it's only marginally less mind-numbing. there does come a time, believe it or not, when one runs out of things to do on the internet. (well, maybe i am too lazy to find more, but still.) after checking my email accounts, livejournal friends page, the weather, the new york times, salon, matt nathanson's website and perhaps the food network page if i am looking for a recipe... i am pretty much information saturated. yet i still sit there. it's incredibly frustrating. right now my room is adbominably messy. i actually thought to myself this morning, i am an adult. i can't have a room this messy. what if my landlord came in? yet my free time is spent sitting at my desk, piles of junk around me, whilst i stare at a computer screen. (granted, last night this was unfortunately for a necessary cause, as i had to sign up for a loan for the next school year.) it's sad. i truly want to be organized, i truly want to have less clothing. but instead of doing anything about it, when i get home from work i just want to plop down like a lazy slob, and that is exactly what i do. i am considering calling in sick one day (although my financial situation can't really afford it, i am probably going to have to take a half a day sometime next week anyway for a doctor's appointment, so i was thinking of taking the whole day off), shutting my computer off and hiding it somewhere and not allowing myself to turn it back on again until my entire bedroom has been cleaned and organized. this probably wouldn't work on the weekends because i feel like being lazy (or sleeping at my boyfriend's place) is justified on the weekend so i have less than zero motivation then. it just sucks.

the countdown to my vacation is on... in two weeks from yesterday i will be heading to that bustling metropolis of milwaukee, wisconsin. it proves how exciting my life is that i am genuinely psyched to go on this trip and enjoy 10 whole days away from work, bills, rent, dishes, etc. somehow i got this bizarre idea in my head that the BF intends to propose to me on this trip... but i have no idea where that came from, since we have only been dating seven months and its just not a realistic possibility in my mind... not that i don't plan on marrying him, because i would like to... but maybe a couple of years down the road. still, this little glimmer of a fantasy has now totally poisoned my mind. i have visited weddingchannel.com and now spend at least 45 seconds per day imagining what we will name our kids, which by the way is one topic which we seem to be at a total impasse regarding, since we really dislike each others' choices of baby names. again, irrelevant because i don't plan on having children within the next year and a half at least... yet for some reason these are the things i think about. which leads me to wonder exactly how much i say, think, and do is irrelevant, which brings me to the conclusion: pretty much everything. i have come so far... i am only 22 years old and i went to one of the top colleges in the country and i'm going to get my masters degree next year, and i'm relatively autonomous from my parents (for now, despite the fact that that is not looking good for the upcoming months). i have a boyfriend whom i love in this amazingly mature and steady way and, incredibly enough, he returns the favor. but i am still restless, i still want something more, i still feel unfulfilled. i wonder if my life will be spent this way, listing off all of the good things and failing to utter anything bad except my dissatisfaction. i try to think what the answer would be, that would make me satisfied, and i realize there is nothing. i am a restless spirit of the worst kind: an uncourageous one. i want to pick up my life and run away with my boyfriend, across the world. but i don't do it, and i won't, because i am afraid. afraid that when i get there i will still be dissatisfied. afraid of what my parents will think. afraid of being poor. afraid of flaunting convention. i am so attached to the idea of solid ground, despite fully realizing the fact that it is and will always remain an idea only.

i feel as though i have reached a psychological impasse. i have been thinking these same thoughts for a few years now and cannot move past them. thinking, no matter how far you go with it, cannot give you courage, cannot provide motivation. what's next? and when will it come?

first day at the beach

the water is so cold it hurts, but we tentatively tiptoe forward, deeper and deeper. it's at my waist now, and a passing wave crashes into my midsection. i shiver and shake, but remain resolute. he's ahead of me, being taller he's not quite waist-deep yet, but i can tell he's just as cold as me. "shit! this is cold!" he exclaims, confirming my suspicion. well, not quite a suspicion, you'd have to be cold-blooded to enjoy this. a few weeks ago it was in the low 40s and rained, rained, and rained. but it's june now so we have to go in, by my rules. we didn't make this trip for me to sit and burn for hours. suddenly he looks at me with the devilish lopsided grin he gets when he is thinking about picking me up and tossing me onto the bed to smother me in kisses, or starting a tickle fight... a look of pure joyous mischief. i imagine that this is what he looked like as a little boy, with a less square jaw and longer hair which was always too kinked to spike like he wanted it. but while i am thinking, he springs into action and pushes some water in my direction. "you're dead!" i say, laughing, and he wades into deeper water ahead of me. "i'm taller!" he says, laughing. i futilely splash some water in his direction, but forget our quarrel when a sudden moment of courage comes over me. i lift my head and stare out into the water for a second, and then dive in headlong. it's absolutely freezing, but i think i've been in colder, remembering the dull headache that accompanied the many may swims of my life. he's gone under now, and propels himself forward. he's a much better swimmer than i would have guessed, although i'm not sure why not-- his skinny body and sinewy strength is perfectly suited for it. we hop around for a few minutes, but the water is unfailingly cold-- how has that little boy been sitting in the surf for hours and not turned blue? we make our way out of the waves, lumbering. i always think it is a humbling moment, walking clumsily out of the water as though weights were attached to my ankles. almost no one can look entirely graceful doing it, ever watchful of waves that might come up from behind. we grasp hands and dig our toes into the sand, the warm air hitting our cool, salty skin. i think that i am the happiest in that moment that i can ever possibly be-- it's a kind of peaceful contentment that i know i am lucky to feel. i know i am lucky to be a part of this moment, and i wish it would never end.