On winter, escapes, and being alone
I’ve been suffering through a bit of writer’s block the last few days, brought on by a combination of fatigue and lack of inspiration. I decided I needed to just say “fuck it” and get typing so the sensation comes back to me: once I get going, it starts to spill out. A big thing that appeals to me about writing is that once I get things on the page, I can edit edit edit until it’s coherent and something I’m willing to put on the internet for all to see. It’s also the thing I often forget about writing. I’m thinking of creating a stockpile of posts for emergency situations where my brain and fingers don’t cooperate.
So, Wednesday was leap day. I’m having trouble remembering if I actually did anything worth remembering that day besides schedule an appointment with the driver examiner: my lack of recall indicates otherwise. It’s now March, and I’m just ready for the winter to be over with. Winter in northern New Brunswick isn’t too bad: aside from fairly regular snowstorms, it’s nowhere as cold as the coldest winters I’ve lived through in my nine years living in Manitoba. Aside from the freshness of the first few snows, I just don’t care for winter. I think it’s the combination of cold and dirty that gets to me. I’ve also never really liked ice: I get nervous walking on a slick surface even if my tread has enough traction on it. I hope the year’s a little better in terms of weather: last year was just so grey and miserable I felt cheated out of summer. The exception, of course, being my trip to Halifax last July.
I found out that I don’t have to report for jury duty after all, which is a relief because now I don’t have the big question mark graying out five weeks in March and April. I’ve mentioned one of my goals was to spend my birthday or thereabouts outside of Miramichi: I’m thinking of how to make this happen. If for some reason I’ve relocated by that point, that would be one way I guess. I’m trying to decide what it is I’d be doing: just visiting friends? I don’t really want people going to the trouble of a giant social gathering in my honor: large crowds of people tend to make me a bit uneasy and I find myself going for “fresh air” every so often. A low-key evening out would nice. My favorite birthdays involved impulsive cab rides to Amherst, NS or going out to the bar with friends.
I’m fine with celebrating by myself, though. There’s a great Tanya Davis poem called “How To Be Alone“. Kelly Sajonia of Naked Girl In A Dress posted recently about how she was reluctant to embrace alone time at first and comments about how too many people have relationships hinged upon mutual fear of being alone. I love my friends and I miss the ones I can’t see regularly. I also am aware I don’t reach out to them as often as I should. Sometimes I get a bit lonely. But I know now that there are the moments when I don’t let myself have the space I need, and I get drained. My solo travels to friends’ weddings in Ontario and Nova Scotia a few years back were good experiences: aside from the more obvious reward of seeing friends I hadn’t seen in person in years, the time by myself in transit and in the hotel also cleared the clutter piling up in my head. I guess that’s what a good vacation is supposed to do.