Just to be clear: I'm in a great place right now. I feel good about where I'm living and where I'm working. Next door the choir is practicing Christmas music. I love the fall. I love the rain in the fall. I love my flannel sheets. I like that I'm going to talk to my new bishop tomorrow about working in the temple. I had left-over curry for lunch, left-over from the end of a really pleasant day. I have plans. I want to be successful in what I'm doing. I have a stack of oxfords still swathed in plastic from the cleaners.
The inevitable but?
I'm sitting in our windowless workroom basking in rainy autumn listening to impossibly melancholy songs absolutely basking in the loneliness of Autumn.
Maybe it's because it's Monday and that I slept in (atrociously. eeek.) and just pulled off an unplanned day and have a lot to do today. I'm sleepy and sad and lonesome and I love it. I'm feeling entirely at home. How is it that I feel most at ease when I'm on the verge of tears?
Monday, November 10, 2008
Grey Day
Posted by Kjerstin Evans Ballard at 1:59 PM
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3 comments:
The girl who gave our Relief Society lesson yesterday actually touched on something pretty similar about this time of year. It is invigorating and motivating and often pleasantly full of plans involving decadent desserts and delightful conversation; it is also laden with emotions that run deep, for this is when loss is most poignant. Who is not around to enjoy this holiday season with us? What had we planned to do this year that we did not? I think it's the nature of the season and the nature of the people basking in it, perhaps. And maybe you're most at home in that sublime place where contentment and melancholy meet because sublimity kinda makes us all feel alive, doesn't it? Oh man, now I'm thinking about Matt Wickman's lectures on the sublime and aesthetics and I need to stop. Anyway, I like that you like grey as you do, Kjerstin. I hope you don't feel melancholy for too long, but I think it is nice for a little while, isn't it?
Also, you need to call me and tell me how your room turned out...you might even consider posting pictures on this lovely blog, you know...
"How is it that I feel most at ease when I'm on the verge of tears?"
I don't know, but I spend far too much time in that place. There's something about it that's reassuring--I probably like feeling predictable in my instability and alive in my sadness a little too much, even though I know it's not the best place for me to be (though I'm struggling to find an alternative right now).
I think Amanda might be onto something with the sublimity thing (even if it does give me flashbacks to English 451 too).
Kjerstin I miss you. Can we be friends when I get back?
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