“Tsundoku”
“(informal) the act of leaving a book unread after buying it, typically piled up together with other such unread books” (from Wikipedia)
I stumbled across this word the other day and read it aloud to Chad. He didn’t say anything, just looked around our apartment.
If nothing else, it is comforting to know that I’m moving to a place where the language accommodates so specifically my exact mania.
~OR~
One Week Ago, Today
I will never understand how I can hop in a car, or catch a plane, and within hours be in a completely different place. A different day. A different climate. Even a different season. It feels like time travel. It feels like cheating. It feels surreal, and nonsensical, and like magic.
So cold in the morning I can see ice crystals hovering mid-air.
So cold in the kitchen that steam rises from freshly washed dishes drying on the rack.
Last week I was lying by the pool, not a thing to do. Seventy degrees and sunny in Palm Springs.
This week I feel that I must get out of the house, do something, anything, everything I can, just to stave of the mounting panic. This week I feel trapped, like a nesting doll, inside layer upon layer of confinement. Trapped inside because of the cold. Trapped under a thick city-wide blanket of toxic smog. Trapped in a web of my own anxious thoughts. Etc.
The coldest winter I can remember, and days when it snows are actually warmer. 
This is how we dress to go out, and suddenly everything is an adventure, like climbing Mt. Everest, except we are only going to a movie, or the grocery store.
The world is transformed–magical under the fallen snow, or bitter and harsh as the air and ground freeze–but strange and unfamiliar, either way. Bird houses wear ridiculous hats.
I try to keep positive, but the inversion is getting to me, bringing inner darkness and a deep sense of unease. I’ve always prided myself on bravely facing Winter, booted and gloved, like a challenge, or a chance for me to prove my inner strength and character.
This year, I find myself wanting to curl in, tuck my feet up under myself, and implode.
~OR~
Early Morning, Hungover, Anxious, Can’t Sleep
~OR~
I Made Something for You
in Palm Springs
So I will go on writing poems
Even if you don’t
Hoping one day
You will find the little collection
I have made for you
And smile.
I will go on writing poems
Even if you don’t
Because I don’t really care
If you write poems
I just love to read you.
I will go on writing poems
(Even if you don’t)
For the same reason
I go for runs
or long walks
The same reason
I write letters
and blogs
The same reason
I play music
or laugh
or dance
or sing
For the same reason I get up in the morning:
I love you.
~OR~
The Facts:
I bought my dress second-hand, paid for it in cash. $32.61. I knew as soon as I tried it on that it was the dress I would get married in. A winter wedding dress.
Oh, man. Oh, Friends. Christmas happened. So did New Year’s. And before that, a wedding. And before that, a road trip, and before that finding out about moving to Japan.
Before that it was Thanksgiving, so basically what I’m saying is that things have been a nutso landslide of friendship, family and festivities. Also love. Also the freezing, freezing cold of a Salt Lake City winter, tempered–if only for a brief respite–by 10 days of car ownership.
What I am saying is that we are now one week into the New Year, and I am feeling the opposite of resolved. Burnt out, yes. Behind on my accomplishments? Absolutely. But you’ve got to start somewhere, so here’s a catch-up. More words (and more pictures) to follow.
The name of the game now is “getting back on track.”
~OR~
I’ve Been Lazy; This is Computer-Generated Filler
The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2012 annual report for this blog.
Here’s an excerpt:
4,329 films were submitted to the 2012 Cannes Film Festival. This blog had 13,000 views in 2012. If each view were a film, this blog would power 3 Film Festivals
little sarah Big World 