But I can't stay away from my laptop, from my television, cannot grow comfortable enough in my bed to slip between the pages of my books to let them reel me in. I saw my old dance teacher outside the thrift shop today and he didn't recognize me and I wonder whether that is a good thing or a bad thing. The last time I saw him, I was thirteen and I didn't fit into my body yet.
I sometimes feel very disconnected from my body and am always seeking to feel it, to feel present on this earth, in this world. This morning and yesterday I began doing yoga again because since being home I got lazy. The air in my room was too humid to do anything but sleep and recline in front of the television. I already feel like I've reentered my body, that I've turned a switch inside that's tightened the connections between my skin and my organs and bones, that the tendons and ligaments have been strengthened, that every nerve ending has been mended.
I have been so very uninspired lately, as though every drop of inspiration has evaporated and hangs in the air around me, transient and intangible and I wonder if it's the summer's heavy air that has killed all the creativity that bloomed within me in the spring.
This summer was supposed to be an adventure, but instead I've only explored the library of television shows on Netflix and the menu of chain restaurants. My job is lackluster and I'm anxious to find a new one.
Yesterday, my grandpa pontificated for ten minutes about boyfriends and sometimes I feel like my life isn't quite real and I wonder if this summer, this year, will help me to write my first big novel.