I didn't post yesterday again, but I almost had a reason for that -- after school, I had swimming until 5:30, then lifted until 6:30, then did calculus and made my mom a birthday card and wrapped her present while she and my dad were at my sister's concert, then hung out with my parents.
I found myself kicking myself when I remembered that I had forgotten to write again yesterday, but then I gave it some thought. Maybe my isearch isn't about forcing myself to do something -- maybe it is about learning to develop new habits. And I think that on certain days, if I can't get around to writing because I am spending time with my family, that is not necessarily a bad thing. I have been thinking a lot lately and I am going to be leaving the house soon -- I am going to be alone, on my own. Because I will be seventeen when I graduate, I don't have that extra year of life within the walls of my parents' home. I ought to spend time with my parents because honestly, this is the last December 9th I will ever probably be home for.
I am exhausted and I have dryland, swim practice, and a swim meet tomorrow. The amount of swimming in my life is nothing less than excessive, but I keep getting yelled at by my coach, who asks me if I am going to "complain about swimming when I'm in college". But I don't think it's really me being lazy -- it's more just me being burnt out and ready to move on. And I am -- I'm ready to move on. I want to succeed this season, but I'm ready for some new scenery (and not to mention never swimming in that god damn pool ever again).
This is an awful post completely void of insight so I am going to keep it short and go read The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao for the second time. I think forgetting novels is a lovely thing -- if you wait long enough in between the times that you read them, you can almost forget the little details and nuances that made you fall in love with it. And then you can fall in love all over again.
Goodnight!
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