Anna S. (eliade) wrote,
Anna S.
eliade

rain and pigeons

You know how at some point in your life, when you're young enough to still be in school and you're hating that trapped pointless feeling, you visit a big city, like on a field trip, and watch all the people going to and fro: they're grown up, they're wanding around in the middle of the day without needing a hall pass, they're carrying coffees and shopping bags. And you can't *wait* to grow up, because it's so glamorous--when you're grown up, you will go to a coffee shop every morning. The whole ritual of paying for your coffee and drinking it won't just be an occasional thing--you'll get to do it *every day*. The same for everything else--you'll get to eat lunch wherever you want, you'll have freedom of movement, you'll sit in the plaza among the pigeons with a croissant, et cetera.

And then you grow up and scrabble for a job and most days you're bored out of your skull and your main goal is just trying to stay awake, and your coffee ritual and lunch trips are just part of your larger rut, ordinary habits that you don't think about--the pigeons are annoying, the plaza is filled with co-workers you want to avoid, and you're constantly worrying about your student loans and your credit card debt and wishing you could take off to Tahiti or buy a new pair of shoes, and yet even when you *do* these things, there's very little joy in them. Very little in your life makes you stop and savor.

All of which is--oh. Wait. Hold on. It's not Monday...my angst is a day late. Now back to your regularly scheduled fannishness.

I kick you all, by the way. Kick kick kick! But I kick you because I love you: I want more people to comment on my last post and talk about vampires and morality and souls and stuff, so that I can suck your brains dry hear what you think. And yeah, I'm a whiiiiiiiiner, and am taking a five-minute break from being ashamed of this.

*macks on you all*
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