Somewhere back in October, just two weeks into the quarter, my mother was visiting. I wandered into my room to find her making my bed one day, and joked that she shouldn't bother, it was going to get unmade in a few hours and probably never be made again. The funny thing is, in the two months since she left, I think I've made my bed every day.
I think probably this is just a feature of the changes in my life that have taken me from using my room for sleeping only, to being in my room, reading in the IKEA chair in the corner, using my bed as a bookshelf, every waking moment that I'm not in class. OK, so maybe this is a slight exaggeration, I do try to wander to the fridge a few times a day, and I have maintained a steadfast commitment to play ultimate, but other than that, I kind of feel like all I do is read and write. I don't really have a social life. The irony of sitting in my room alone, reading all about how our development only fully occurs in the context of relationship, is not lost on me. It's not that my intitiation energy is gone, it's just operating at about 49%, and usually gets trumped by the 51% of me that thinks it's easier to chip away at the reading list so I can be an informed therapist someday. And yes, the irony that I am holing myself away alone so that I can be better at helping people with their relationships is also not lost on me.
I need help convincing the 49% to riot.
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