every week's end is another's beginning

Today, Sunday, is the end of the weekend and thus approaching the next beginning. Just like I would tell my music appreciation students, it's these moments of punctuation, cadences, that define the form. This weekend has felt like a deceptive cadence, an anticlimax--not that I was expecting anything much. In fact, I had steeled myself for the reentry to the city, not unlike reentry from space, but was still somewhat jarred by the multitude of possibility that the city possesses.

Friday evening, I came back to the city from the cottage, which is in a part of Michigan that I have a little trouble describing. It's not quite rural, nor is it urban or suburban or even exurban. There are, indeed, farms not too far away, but there's also vacation homes, rentals, a casino, and the beach. I'm going to stick with rural, although there's always a bag of Intelligentsia coffee beans is only a short walk away.

As I got closer to the city, I started to notice myself feeling a subtle unease. It could have been the traffic or the very act of driving, but by the time I got back to the apartment, I had lost most of the peace-of-mind that I thought I had found. Turns out, it's ephemeral.

Not to worry, I steadily recuperated all day Saturday (aided by an accidental overcaffeination) and some biking around the cold, snow-drizzled city in pursuit of good conversation. I spent the caffeination time, at the cafe, sorting through the night before trying to figure out what caused me to crash. I started using the word "oppressive" to describe the energy of the city: too many distractions, too many possibilities, too many people. The wave hit me, knocked me down, and then it took me a night to surface. By Saturday afternoon, I felt like my old self--the Chicago self--but maybe a little more focused and wiser. Progress, not perfection.

Saturday evening, I saw people I knew: some friends, colleagues, and even some students from CSU. One was disappointed that I wouldn't be her theory teacher next semester: alas. But I noticed that, after a week of limited human exposure, I actually liked talking to people (and telling them about my new life). Before leaving, it had seemed such a chore to explain what I was doing; now it's kind of fun!

Still dumb things to do. The old apartment, itself, is oppressive in its disorder. There are still some piles destined for storage or things I just don't know what to do with yet. And I keep procrastinating thinking there's a better last minute than this one.

Today, Sunday, I've got to try to make a little more order, forage for provisions, and then I'm off to a Christmas Tea party that I thought was yesterday. Turns out, it's today. It made me wonder, in this day of facebook events and calendars in sync, how I can get the day of a party a whole day off. Then headed back to the wild this pm.