Tuesday, June 21, 2011

In defense of loafing

Loafing, Denmark 2007. Photo by Jon.

With the running and the yoga and the forthcoming backpacking trip in South America, I could understand how a reader of this blog without knowing me in person could picture me as an up-and-at-'em Clif Bar type. Those who know me can report that these hobbies are (happily) a gross imposition on my natural state. Beer-chugging, helping myself to thirds, sleeping past noon, and watching a season of an indefensible TV show from start to finish in an afternoon while still wearing last night's t-shirt and mascara - that's more Evie than any physically demanding wilderness excursion, I'm afraid.

Keeping busy helps my depression, no time to catch my breath and get felled by the suffocating grayness all around me, but I miss my old idle life right now. I feel like I used to have 2 obligations per week besides work and school and otherwise I would honestly have to invent ways to fill my time. I would wash, blow out, and flat iron my hair, only to ride my moped half a mile to the coffee shop, grab a latte, and go right back home. I would research a weird, overly complicated recipe, and go to the grocery, but instead eat the ingredients raw while watching Top Gear. Good lord, could I loaf.

Well, I miss it. Even though those could be unhappy days, even though I felt underaccomplished and lazy. I don't recognize myself right now.

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