It’s just past 7:30 and I’m sitting at Panera Bread carefully eating my broccoli cheddar soup, so as not to spill it on my white shirt, as I write this in my little journal.
The writing here, in this journal, has become more a comfort than a place to store the ideas that crop up at inopportune times; like at the movie theater last night minutes after the movie I’d been waiting to see for months started.
But, the pages are nearly full now and I’m not ready to move on. This may be one of the only journals I’ve ever stuck with, refusing to rip the pages of mistakes and failed attempts, of which it is half full.
When I’m feeling particularly bold, which I am tonight, I can say honestly that I am a runner.
I leave. (I want to clean that up and say that I don’t leave people, but if I’m being bold, which I said I was, it’s only right to count withdrawing as leaving.)
And when I am uncomfortable I move. I am constantly moving.
In a state of unbridled restlessness today, I’ve found myself in transit for longer than I’ve been still.
I bolted from campus after my first class ended at 12:15 with intentions of walking down to the financial aid office to figure out how to pay for my summer internship. Instead, I found myself in my car driving past the financial aid office and on the state road that leads me back home.
Once there, I sat still for about two hours doing nothing at all but breathing comfortably, just as I am here and now away from the hustle and bustle on campus.
Matter-of-factly, I arrived here unintentionally as well.
What started as just going to the library for some quiet after my meeting turned into just moving my car from the far lot on campus a little closer to the building to sitting ten minutes from campus at a little table for two by the wall in Panera.
It’s been one of those days, one of those weeks that I feel I’ve been dropped here from some other planet. Unable to fit comfortably into any of the spaces where I find myself.
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