I spent the past four days at my best friend’s place.
We went to a club, where there was free beer and loud music and familiar faces, where people aggressively pushed and shoved for free fries. We went to her little cousin’s birthday party, where the girls–gangly and tall and awkward and weird and silly and uninhibited–crowded around, then lost, the hamster. We prepared dinner for the Super Bowl: buffalo wild wings, garlic bread, mac & cheese (all from scratch, too). We stayed up until 2 in the morning talking about our lives, ourselves, our friendship, our relationships, The Bachelor.
In addition to all of that, I painted, read, ate, prepared food, talked on the phone, watched the Superbowl, and relaxed. All of this was done in PJs. It felt like a proper break, like the ones they issue in school every season, a designated time frame for rest. For four days and nights I did a whole lot of nothing.
It’s…February. It hasn’t quite hit me yet.
January went by quickly. I think it’s because I was busy for the majority of it, aside from the very start and end. Well, no, not even, because I was scuttling around like a bee from the 10th to the 31st, so that’s a solid 3 weeks of being busy. But I chose to be(e).
A lot of it had to do with taking on three areas for the newspaper: news writing, photographing, illustrating. In retrospect, being involved with the paper–as a photographer or writer–was the one activity I derived genuine happiness from. It wasn’t because it looked good on a resumé or because it sounded fancy; I just liked taking on assignments, going out with a camera or pen and documenting it. And it’s my last chance to be involved, so I figured I might as well.
February’s been off to a good start. Here’s to another good, albeit less busy, month.