And who knows? Maybe this one won't be my last. As Michael reminded me when my lungs were burning and my legs ready to quit, it wouldn't be worth it if you didn't have any pain. Like most things in life, I'd say.-
It's exciting to have reached the point in my summer where I am legitimately busy, not just at work, but outside of work--with meetings, appointments, lunches, dinners, hikes. I girded myself for another lonely summer this year, but that has not been the case at all. My heart is light here. I am happy and I daresay I will even be sad to leave. I believe, more firmly than ever, that community is such an essential part of a joyful, well-balanced life, and I am inexpressibly grateful to have found it here, in whatever surface pockets I can reach.
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One of the only consequences of my job this summer is that it has made me a terrible reader. I've only finished six books this summer (granted, two of them had more than 600 pages) and still have at least six more on my list (including the whopping "Middlemarch"). But once I get back to school, I will finish those and "Lamb," which God has apparently decreed I must read, since three different people, entirely unannounced and unconnected, have told me I have to read it.
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I am hand-writing my cousin's wedding invitations right now. I've reached a style that I think looks nice; I just hope they do, too.
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I am really hungry most of the time, but I hate spending money on food. This is a really silly hang-up of mine.
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I've been wondering lately what my life will look like a year from now. Aside from a few particulars, I really have no idea. Even though this would have stressed me out last year, I find myself oddly at peace about the unknown. I credit this to Guion, who does not seem to worry about anything at all. The quality of a rock star, I guess...
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