I have an unexpectedly free and clear day today. I have nothing scheduled today, not even lunch with Daniel. Around 5 o'clock I might go meet Daniel after he's done with work and go have dinner and maybe see some friends, but until then, I'll be hanging out with myself.
I would like to write a thankyou note and a mail it to Daniel's mom for sending me a beautiful care package full of goodies like candy, granola, honey, organic chapstick and best of all, a fancy journal. This means I need to go browse 57th street books or the co-op until I find the perfect card. Browsing a bookstore is a wonderful way to spend free time.
I think 57th street is more appropriate for buying a card because if I go to the co-op, i might be laughed at for being an intellectual lightweight, going to an amazing bookstore to buy stationary.
Then I might mosey on over to campus or a cafe to find the perfect nook to sit in to write the letter. this kind of activity always seems like it will be soul satisfyingly romantic, but it isn't always. Sometimes it just feels sort of fake and lonely to sit in cafe with a steaming cup of tea or cappuccino and fuzzy sweater and notebook. one of those ideals that isn't really all its cracked up to be.
Other than that, I don't really have anything planned for today. I'm excited to see what I end up doing, where I end up drifting. It feels really good that I have a free day by myself. I usually spend my free days with Daniel, going back to bed after eating a silly breakfast, or pretending to read while sneaking glances at his pretty fingers and brow bones. Letting the day dissapear in a warm fuzz of love and attempted productivity. Those times are wonderful, but what love will i have to share with him or the world unless i refill my wells of creativity and love with solitude?
"Solitude, says the moon shell. Every person, especially every woman, should be alone sometime during the year, some part of the week and each day. How revolutionary that sounds....If one sets aside time for a business appointment, a trip to the hair dresser, a social engagement or a shopping expedition, that time is considered inviolable. But if one says: I cannot come because that is my hour to be alone, one is considered rude, egotistical or strange. What a commentary on our civilization, when being alone is considered suspect."
-Anne Marrow Lindbergh, Gift from the Sea,