Soft jazz courtesy of Michael Buble and my brand new, just-out-of-the-box Bose iPod sound dock is mingling with the light scents wafting from the candles burning from various heights before reaching me, me splayed out on the couch with my laptop resting on my knees curled up beneath me. This finally feels like home, where I can relax and not feel lonely or lame. It's my oasis now; it's been lived in enough to feel warm and cozy, instead of empty and barren. Of course I still wish there were someone else lounging on the couch with me, but for now I'm happy to settle for Mr. Laptop and Irving's
A Prayer for Owen Meany.
I'm proud of myself for how I've spent my first hitch off, with just the right measure of lazy nothing. I'm finally getting the chance to do the things I promised myself I'd do when I "have the time" - though I still haven't managed to check "laundry" off that list. Since flying in Thursday morning: I had an amazing time at Margaritaville in the Quarter for a company-sponsored social that night (I got to see some of my favorite people in the city, many of whom I haven't seen in more than a month) and even got on stage to play the washboard and spoons! Friday I relaxed and got some stuff done and went out that night until 5 am to the bar with the best cheese fries in New Orleans (F&M's).
Today I played soccer and had the best play of my young career - I managed to steal the ball away from this fierce looking, shaved head, British guy (if he's European, he's got to be better at soccer, right? :) ) not once, but TWICE!! He stood there looking stunned while my team went crazy for me, shouting "Jen's a rockstar!" and other superlatives. It was great. This evening we went to a Zephyrs baseball game (the minor league team here, for the Washington Nationals) sponsored by a vendor, which meant free food and drinks and sitting around the pool in the outfield and not so much watching of the game itself.
My next soccer game is 8 am tomorrow. After my game, I'm going to try to go for a bike ride, sit at the park and read for a bit (I've been on a great reading streak and have been actually finishing the books I start, unlike a couple months ago when it felt like I had lost my ability to read a whole book.), and make dinner for me and Courtney. I'm thinking a spaghetti, with almost-from-scratch sauce with italian sausage and beef plus the standard vegetables, and my new best friend, Basil. Instead of going to sleep now like I should, I'll drone on a little longer...
That's another great way I've spent my off time this week, cooking. I made an amazingly well-seasoned tilapia filet last night for dinner (some cumin, salt, pepper, zested lemon, basil, flour) and complimented it with some blanched spinach that I then sauteed with a bit of eggwhite and baby swiss cheese to make it kind of quiche-like, alongside some spiral-y noodles. I was so impressed with myself! It was fun, too, to just throw stuff together and not use a recipe. Cooking felt intuitive for the first time. I've also made myself an eggwhite omelet every morning with fresh veggies (I really like combining tomato, mushroom, vidalia onion, and spinach) topped with a little salsa. I indulged my penchant for fresh fruit at the grocery store, too, and have been nibbling on plump, ripe strawberries and juicy cherries. I feel like I've been spoiling myself, but I can physically
feel the positive effect of eating so healthfully on my body.
For the first time in a long time, I feel like I am actually supporting myself in a healthy way, instead of just making it from day to day. Not monetarily, but emotionally and physically. Working at the office was tiring, and I never took time to take care of myself and genuinely relax. I never read or just sat outside. I never cooked for myself because I was always too tired. So that's been the best thing so far, to have the desire to do these things because I don't feel so rushed every second that there are fifty other irrelevant things I should be doing. Now I just need someone to share my newfound capabilities and brighter smiles with...
I'm excited about my mom coming to visit in a few weeks - this is the longest I've ever gone in my whole life without seeing my mom! I think, inside, I'm especially excited to show her what I've done with the condo, my 22-year-old's version of holding up a fridge-worthy finger painting as if to say, "Look, Mommy! I did it! I really did it! I'm all (so they tell me) grown up and doing well! Have I made you proud yet?! Have I? Pat me on the shoulder, hug me, tell me you love me! Tell me you're glad I'm here and happy before I change my mind, break down, and sobbingly tell you I want to check the 'I DID IT' box off my life's checklist and go home!"
The muggy air sneaking through my windows on the drive home tonight mixed with James Blunt's "Goodbye My Lover" into a sweaty soup of memories of Scotland, of riding my bike in Audobon park, led me to Bob Marley and Ansley's room making CDs freshman year to funk music to jamming down the street in Rijswijk with my favorite new French friend.
As happy as I am right now, I'm afraid that soon it's going to go back to me just telling myself that all these things make me happy, to doubting whether I'm happy here only because it means I'm also spending time offshore and that means my fake sense of family. Why do I question my happiness so much? Even when I'm purely, blissfully satisfied, I'm wondering somewhere inside when the happiness is going to end, and how I know I'm really happy at that moment, don't I have to be sad again to realize in retorspect that I was truly happy at such-and-such other moment? I'm confusing myself.
My eyes are drooping and my fingers and tiring; off to sleep.
