I'm only here, and home, a few minutes between my long drive from work to home, and turning around to go out to my parent's house for my weekly Tuesday Night Dinner with Mom. I think a lot of about this. Writing. My journal. The space it used to be. Both how silent and empty it was the very beginning (in 2001, before I graduated), to the middle when it was the hot bed of the internet (both live journal, and dream width), to now with it's quiter, far more gamers heavy, placement.
I loved my journal from the beginning. It was my sacred place. My personal space. Even as it intersected with public space, it was not defined by it (save for that single, last, box-requiring, relationship). While I embrace the concept of the placebo effect as part plausibility,
I, also, feel like I have more space in my brain the last day or two, just jotting things down.
I miss this. All of it. My space, my place, my records, my larks.
The world that used to be all mine, but with open windows.
My children wrote goals for themselves last Monday (the one before this past one). They had to set three goals, and in the future beginning of each six weeks they will look at the goals they set and reflect on whether they met them. I set myself one goal and one sub-goal in relations to it.
Goal: Miss Tillman will go home at 4:30 on the days she does not have meetings and/or private tutoring scheduled, so that Amanda can go back to existing between more than 8pm and 6am, during which most time is spent sleeping.
Sub-Goal: Use extra hours recovered from not leaving at 5:30-6 every single night (which I did, basically, the whole first six weeks) to get back to the gym for weightlifting/swimming and to spend more time relaxing at home/anywhere that is not my desk chair.
Sub-Goal, Part 2: There will be no grading on Friday Nights or during Saturday's. Miss Tillman is banned from existing on these and may return, briefly on Sundays. Real life deserves it's forum and places just as much as being good at, and/or passionate about, the job you deeply love.
Today is the first time I've managed to do part one, as every afternoon last week had a meeting of some sort. No gym tonight, due to Mother's dinner, but I am readying my bag for standby in my car and continuing in this vein to getting more and more space to myself, my life, back to my normal routines. The healthy, happier, and more balanced I am, the better for my kids.
I've always been the girl who got more packages than anyone else in this neighborhood. That's a truth going on about five years now. But I have to wonder what story my mail man tells himself, or makes up, about the fact that 90% of my package/parcel flood of smaller packages these days come directly from Japan.