Dates, times, number of blog posts and Facebook Notes; what I Tweet, finding how to say it on Tumblr; whether it should be brief, detailed, a Meme. I suppose the art of online articulation, given its virtuality, makes translation from reality a challenge, one that can be welcome or insufferable.
I flip the calendar from Sunday, 23/8 to Monday, 24/8 and marvel that we are at the last week of Aug'09. I walk past the NLB building and STB, attend a dialogue at the URA Centre and browse the Brightsparks publication in Borders. I get asked about disruption at work and term starting at play, and remind both others and myself of where I am at. "Measured" was how I described it. Deliberate would be my ideal choice, though poorly understood in an SMS.
There's no school work to worry about like last time when tonight would be filled with thoughts of assignments or tests or lessons unprepared for. All I do is fold the sleeves of my cabbage inspired garb. I take the rare afternoon nap after starting on a second Maya Angelou novel at an al fresco Starbucks. There are no sounds of a familiar frisbee game, or chatter over Sunday lunch.
I'm left to my thoughts and expressions; I think I could/want to write.
