Boring, Bored, or None of the Above

I am a person, believe it or not, who has, in instances, been accused of being boring. My staid exterior, my introverted personality, and my overall behind-the-scenes attitude lends itself to that I guess. I'm a person who appreciates thoughtfulness and tradition, and some might say I can be predictable. Often this assumption of a boring attitude translates itself into a passionless, emotionless one. The reality is I am deeply moved by the responsibilities of morality, ethics, being an example, and fulfilling my desires and dreams. I guess that's a boring answer, which doesn't much prove my point; so let me put it in a more simple example. I'm more passionate about literature than some people are about their very lives. And the best part--books aren't the thing I'm most passionate about. But since I've started on this path I might as well continue down the road and see if it explains anything.

Feeling so deeply is hard to keep up--no matter what it is that drives that passion. This summer I'm lucky enough to be immersed in the study of literature all the way from the early 20th C to present day, and still there are days where I find myself wanting to just sit and watch World Cup games all day. A day every now and then, sure I understand that, but when it persists I've got to ask--am I really getting bored with this? Don't get me wrong, I'm having a great time, tons of fun. But sometimes it feels like the fire is out.

With the sun shining outside and the temperature rising, I wonder if I lose myself, become complacent and forget to add fuel to the flame. And when that's gone, you can enjoy yourself all you want, but there's still a spot of cold darkness the sun can't reach. And when boredom sets in, the rest of your life burns out pretty swiftly leaving you to sit in a pile of your own ash blown, indifferently, by the wind's desire. And so it is, sometimes, where I am caught at the brink of the charcoal grey edges of life, before the charred smell of my dreams, like smelling salts, wake me out of my self-indulgent slothfulness. Just what I needed, before a blast of cold air blows out the last ember and throws me over the edge. Now the joy of collecting the grass, leaves and sticks to build from the ashes anew. Smoldering smoke, then a burst of yellow flame and the passion is reborn. I find again not just the fun, but the joy and excitement of building a life of passion. Heaving logs now, felling trees to find more fuel, insatiable a bonfire storms in front of me; towering, swirling oranges and reds, heat that stings my skin. I've created this, I've lived this; needing more, wanting more, growing larger, wilder.

Am I boring? Am I bored? I choose none of the above. I've a passion, rains and storms may dampen the flame, but the embers never die. I am always building always growing. I am creating a wildfire, and I am ready to let it run loose. It's been hidden, but I will open it to the world, I will let it engulf the surrounding forest. So pick up your tinder, your sticks and logs. Get ready and find the freedom and courage to throw your lives to the fire, to add your storied flames to the passion's unquenchable madness.

Dinner?

Well I've started to get into the swing of things out here in lovely New Haven. I'm even getting the hang of my commute to New York pretty well. It's strange to feel like this is the norm for my summer now, living on my own having two jobs that are on the road to what people do for careers. Although nothing is too normal about it, especially the schedules I need to keep. Talk about some busy days.

When I get to stay in New Haven it's really not all that bad. I get to make my own hours (so, yes, my day doesn't start until 10 or 11). I get to work from home a lot of the time. And it takes a 10 minute walk to get to all the libraries I work at. Really 'living the dream' as they say. But then there are those wondrous days where I get to work in the Big Apple, birthplace of the American Dream. Who knew you'd have to wake up at 5:30 to catch up with that dream. That's right, it's up at 5:30 to get showered and ready to catch a bus to the train station. Once that ordeal is over I get to sit for another hour and a half on the train into Grand Central Station (of course continuing my never-ending pile of reading). Then its a 15 block walk to the workplace. Finally I've made it in just before 10 and about four hours after I started getting ready for work. Then it starts to get better. I'm reading manuscripts, organizing files, giving reviews (and yes I did say better). Let's not forget the lunch break I get, a gracious hour, to buy my hugely overpriced sub. 6 o'clock rolls around and I get to do all of the planning in reverse now. 15 block walk, hour and a half train ride, bus back to campus, 5 block walk back home, then I'm done--but not really. Because after a long day of work and walking I'm hungry. And so the worst of it all comes at around 9 at night; time to make dinner. Who knew needing to sustain yourself would be such a hassle. So a half an hour later I can finally sit and eat. By 10 I've finished dinner and the dishes and can finally sit in my room and relax, 16 hours after I started. Take another two hours to do some writing and reading, and it's to bed because in less than 6 hours it all starts again. Who knew living the dream and the American Dream at the same time would be so time consuming.

Room Without a View

So it's been a week since I moved into my New Haven apartment and things are starting to pick up. The room I'm staying in has two windows in it. One looks out onto a roof and deserted parking lot while the other one has a great view of my neighbor's brick wall. Even without the view from home, I'm finding New Haven to have some beautiful scenery. Of course there is the Yale campus in all its glory. High, stone and marble built buildings towering around green quads. Old discolored towers with ivy crawling up its walls. These are mammoth buildings (which includes the second largest gym in the world!). It's an odd and wonderful thing to see a normal city street with shops and restaurants that have these old giants looming in the distance. But let's not forget the beauty of the city without the school. One of my favorite places is the New Haven green. With some history of its own, New Haven has three churches planted right next to each other on a large green smattered with trees, benches, and walkways. These churches have been around for literally hundreds of years and add to the scene providing a place where the manmade and natural beauty of the city fuse together into an area where any and all take advantage of its welcoming presence.

Doing my research I'm stuck in a reading room that is underground giving me a view of a few stone sculptures. After spending six hours straight in a place like this, I'm really enjoying the view from the street. I hope I never forget to keep looking around.