There's this voice I haven't heard in a while. I miss it like one misses and old album from years ago.
There's the anticipation, and the crackling of the vinyl. And then, the music starts. Only right now, there is no music, there is no sound. There's just a fuzzy memory of what I think the song and the voice sound like. It's disorienting when you begin to forget something that felt like second skin. It's the strangest process, isn't it?
I've sort of settled back into a routine and I'm trying to figure out what's next. Again. I feel like I've become expert at thinking about what should come next. I'm starting to get better at making that next actually happen.
I've been flirting with the idea of leaving DC, but then something compelling happens that encourages me to stay.
So for now, instead of packing up my bags and heading west, or north or south or even east, I am adding some travel to my repertoire. I saw Boston and Seattle this summer, and in January, I am heading to what I consider my second home, England.
When I first started writing a blog four years (!) ago, I gave a paper at Cambridge University and visited many colleges, my favorites being Corpus Christi and Caius (pronounced 'keys' strangely enough). I took photographs and visited friends and said goodbye to a dear friend for the last time.
So much has changed and so much is still the same.
This optimism isn't going anywhere, but it is a lot quieter than I'm used to. At some point, I'll have to write more pointedly about forgetting, but for now, I'll just leave it alone.