So many of the people who anchor my world are strangely silent or away this week: Jon, my mother, Amelia (no long Redboot practices with her away). At school there's a Reading Week, so no classes. Every day I check my emails to see who will be attending our 10th anniversary party in a week; some of our dearest friends have not even deigned to rsvp. The phone seldom rings. There has been no final answer about the great job I was interviewed for over a week ago; I fear the worst. Even my job is anonymous and lonely: no one really knows me and few stop to chat as they do at Tanglewood.
This all sounds terribly depressing, but I don't feel that bad. My throat is slowly on the mend and my energy is coming back. (For now. The first sign of another illness and I'm gonna take a doctor hostage, if that's what it takes to get some attention.) I just feel as if I am floating, slightly unconnected to reality, whatever that is. I work days at this funny little store on Granville Island, just another retail clerk pounding a cash register. I come home to Chinese food leftovers and episodes of "My So-Called Life" (hey, might as well watch it while J's not around to make sarcastic remarks). It's not a bad life, really, it's just not that much of a life. Like so many of us did at high school dances, I wait pressed against cold walls for someone to slide up and say You. I choose you. Come dance with me.
When of course, what I need to do is start to dance by myself. But sometimes limbo is just easier, and that's the sad truth of it.