Imaginary Oprah
I wasn't feeling well this morning. I finally nagged myself out of bed at the last possible minute and drove to my statistics class.
Class was canceled.
I drove home on gas fumes, coasting down the hills and accelerating like my grandma. I'm officially out of money, so now I have to stay at home the rest of the day. It's just as well; it simplifies things. I have nothing to do but read and wait for the mail. And try to resist getting sick.
Yesterday the Oprah in my head told me that being anxious about moving isn't going to change anything, so I need to work on accepting it (we're moving, damnit) and then concentrate on the things that are actually under my control. I know that should be the goal, but it's hard to force it. Hopefuly the trip to Philadelphia next month will help. (I don't know why, but I can't call it "Philly". It feels overly familiar and fake when I say it.)
I'm reading The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle by Haruki Murakami. The main character is an unemployed 30 year-old who is being supported by his wife. He fills his days with books, coffee and a semi-scandalous relationship with a teenage girl down the street. Maybe I should take more walks. Meet the neighbors.
[Addendum: the Oprah in my head looks like this]
Class was canceled.
I drove home on gas fumes, coasting down the hills and accelerating like my grandma. I'm officially out of money, so now I have to stay at home the rest of the day. It's just as well; it simplifies things. I have nothing to do but read and wait for the mail. And try to resist getting sick.
Yesterday the Oprah in my head told me that being anxious about moving isn't going to change anything, so I need to work on accepting it (we're moving, damnit) and then concentrate on the things that are actually under my control. I know that should be the goal, but it's hard to force it. Hopefuly the trip to Philadelphia next month will help. (I don't know why, but I can't call it "Philly". It feels overly familiar and fake when I say it.)
I'm reading The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle by Haruki Murakami. The main character is an unemployed 30 year-old who is being supported by his wife. He fills his days with books, coffee and a semi-scandalous relationship with a teenage girl down the street. Maybe I should take more walks. Meet the neighbors.
[Addendum: the Oprah in my head looks like this]
Labels: Books, Medical School, Money
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home