It's been awhile since I've written, and I feel the need to explain, like I'm caught and in trouble by you all somehow...

These are not really excuses, just explanations really.

There was the whole finishing the thesis bit, then the buzzing myself up late at night in a frenzy of new ideas for my lecture. I was SO tired on Thursday, but I still forced myself to exercise. Then there was the finishing of the huge garbage story, and the "oh my god I should garden" fit on Friday and Saturday. Weeds are the compulsive person's mortal enemy. There are always more of them, and just when you get one area under control, a forgotten area needs your attention. Then we socialized on Saturday, Sunday and today. We went to my friend, and neighbor, Emily's party and I got a little drunk and I may have even insulted one or more of her friends, though she assures me they're okay. I was just feeling very outspoken, in a truth-serum style, which isn't good when you don't know the people you're trying to pin down. Then we had our wonderful friends J and S over for a twenty-four hour stay that involved a hike, bowling and lots of intense, passionate ....talking. (What were you thinking? ) Then tonight we just had dinner with my grandparents, my father and my very teenaged sister (she's cool, don't get me wrong...it's just that I'm always reminded how I'm so far from my teen years mentally).

The point is that at the end of all this I have the feeling that I need to get to know myself all over again; that somewhere in all this activity "I" hid away, took a backseat and let whoever she is that does all that socializing come out to play. And now I have to coax my real self back out with promises of wide, delicious swaths of silence and time to herself. She's not entirely sure she trusts me just yet. What's happening to me that I get so drained by social activity? I used to be so good at it, so flexible. But now I feel like after a certain point in time if I don't get free time, and quick, I'm going to pop. It's an intense feeling. And I don't even have a demanding husband in that respect. He lets me have my time. So I'm coming to terms with the fact that I might actually be changing. Or emerging.

Dinner with the family wasn't bad. I sort of let go of my conviction that it had to be bad, and though we didn't have deep conversations in the restaurant, I found that my gps were not nearly as negative, and my dad was in good spirits and it was generally quite nice, except that we had to wait so long for dessert that they gave it to us for free.

In thirteen more days I'm heading to New York and then to Bennington, but as it gets closer it feels all the more a dream to me. Like this whole experience has been made up from the get go. Like I just wrote it into being. I don't have the slightest idea how this final residency will go. Will we be all maudlin and drunk, crying, "I've never had a friend like you" in the pub after hours? Will we be stoic, reassuring each other we'll convene every so many years for catch up in some Vermont Inn? Or will we all be nervous and cranky as we wait to give our lectures and readings? Who can know. It will be big.

Then what? It will all be over. So new things can come in now. You hear me universe?

JPR