Yesterday – A Lazy Sunday

 

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de Young Museum

I had weird dreams. Don’t ask me why, but I dream often of people from my childhood. It’s a phase of my life that lingers in my subconscious and brings back such real moments. Moments that I have worked so hard to remove feelings from.

I’m in therapy – mainly because I struggle to express and communicate with feelings and emotions. I love to deal in facts and logic and of course sarcasm and flirtation. But back to these dreams. I usually wake up at 6am burdened with foggy memories of what I dreamt. These dreams usually haunt me with sadness. I have to coldly and logically remind myself why the choice to leave that world behind has ultimately made me a happier person. Countless mornings, and this morning included, I miss my old friends and family that I no longer see.

Then I push away that sadness into its locked box and immediately begin to plan my day. I have so much homework and it stresses me. That ever elusive bachelor’s degree always feels so far away. I love learning. I love the job that pays for my school. Yet, I fucking hate my homework. Nothing can ruin my idea of a fun Sunday faster than that of writing papers comparing thermal bridging properties of wood versus steel, when all I want to do is lay in bed half-asleep, on my stomach, and soak up the sun peeking through the blinds. The stress from work is oddly gratifying but also exhausting so the desire to relax pulls so strong at me.

As I lay in bed, I suddenly remember that I wanted to go exploring. A close friend has recommended a bookstore called City Lights, and I am eager to go check it out and tell her about my adventure. I want to be in a new place. A place that smells of books and that will pull me into a world far away from homework and memories from my past. Books have always been my drug and my escape and that’s a whole other tangent.

As I get up and start to plan my day, I ironically think of how much I over plan. I sometimes try to sequence and plan my life like I sequence and plan my construction projects. My therapist tells me that I need to learn to let go and let life happen more. Olivia is great at that. Somehow she can balance living in the moment with her responsibilities. I struggle with that concept.

Fate hates me. The day that I have promised myself will be used to catch up on homework is so bright and clear and sunny. Instead nature teases me from my window, tempting me to throw what little responsibility and maturity I have out the window (pun intended) and go out to play. Instead I stay hunched over my laptop and waste time on Instagram and snapchat. Brilliant.

Breakfast time comes and goes. Lunch rolls around and I have still not finished my homework. Olivia wants to explore de Young Museum and show me the viewing tower, so I push my homework aside and throw on my Vans. The drive through the city is calming, but my car and I still snarl at the idiots on the road while we speed from light to light. Acceleration calms me and I find myself living in the moment. It is so liberating. The radio is blaring, the sun is shining, the breeze is blowing, and life is great. I never make it to City Lights bookstore. After the de Young museum tour, responsibility hits me in the face with the reminder of homework, and I force myself to drive home when all I want to find a book and forget.

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