To Sense: just a few pennies

I spoke with my future mother-in-law today for a few moments (Ok, maybe not really "spoke" it was more like me absently spouting niceties; I might still be a bit scared of V.). She asked what was new, and I spouted for a moment about nothing. "Well, I guess you really deserved a break," said V, repeating what she's said to me for the last few months, though this time sounding nothing but half-hearted.

I instantly felt guilty.

But now that I think about it, I've been feeling guilty about all this "free" time since it began. I think I've been trying to escape the guilt by flaunting my acceptance of all this "free"dom. You know--I can sleep in as long as I want, I can watch stupid TV, I can think up new and silly projects--but I think that just keeps bringing me back to the same old thing.

Today was an idea day. All day long I was hatching frail little ideas that were completely useless, each for its own reason. But though none of them were viable, the mental fluster of them made me feel a little more alive.

Tonight, that fluster has given way to simple restlessness, and as I tried to go to sleep, up came little phrases from this Thom Gunn poem. Good ol' Matts beat the poem into my head, and now I am all too often haunted by it.

For several years I have been clamoring for a break in my life. A break from the bustle to figure it all out. And now that I have that break, it seems that I can't accept it, I can't make good use of it, and I can't escape it.

"It is a part solution, after all....One lacks direct instinct, because one wakes/Afloat on movement that divides and breaks....At worst, one is in motion; and at best,/Reaching no absolute in which to rest,/One is always nearer by not keeping still."

Damned part solution.