My Playlist of Post-Work Bliss

In a few days I should be done. After not sleeping a lot for what seems like a couple of months. I want to see it all ship shape and done; and then I will reward myself handsomely.

Like writing acknowlegments, imagining what you will do after the writing-incarceration is the best part of it all.

The fact that I'm even writing this instead of a pithy paragraph all about Voltaire and his take on pre-revolutionary constitutionalism in the texts of Benezet GIBBERISH ALERT GIBBERISH proves I need a nap. But it's only ten in the evening and I have seven more hours of work ahead of me.

OK. SO...Here is my playlist of things I want to do:

*Read books not for work but for pleasure. I have some great German books to read, including all of Tucholsky's short stoires. I have some Murakami I'm dying to start. I have a Maria Callas bio I'm dying to finish. And now I have to read all Trapedo's work so I can catch up with my friend L's blog on women's lit.

*Sing. Sing a song. Sing it loud...sorry. I haven't had time to learn any new pieces since...six months? Frack the neighbours, I'm getting my Bach on.

*Enjoy my office job and not try to find places to nap. Note: it is impossible to find places to nap, but I'm still trying.

*Run; stop exclusively eating chocolate-covered things; brush my hair every evening, a hundred strokes, the way my grandmother did.

*Get lost on my bike in Berlin. Go to salsa classes. Meet new friends. Actually keep in touch with all my friends and answer postcards and mails with something other than SOSOBUSYTALKSOON.

*Enjoy the last days of summer. It's been raining so much here, I think it will stop as soon as I am done with this baby.

*Sleep. Sleep more. Sleep and then have brunch.

*Plan my wonderful November holiday.

I should get back to it...I have a few good reasons to finish it, as you can see...

What's on your playlist?

Working days

Wrote a chapter of my novel. Still a bit Eeyore, but will soon perk up.
Studied for exam.
Watched co-students get drunk and high.
Did not get either drunk or high.
Sang a Leonard Cohen medley with Mathias, who was particularly drunk and high.
I should learn how to play the guitar, I would get all the girls.

Only 24 days before I'm done with the year.
Only a month before I party with Yeli for her birthday.
Only a month and a half before I get my German on.

So many plans for next year. I can't wait.

Letter to myself:

I'm proud of conquering my fears day after day, of waking up with a smile, of kicking ass. I'm proud of my brains, proud of my quickness, proud of my tiny legs, proud of not believing everything I'm told, proud of being a feminist, proud of being a champagne-swilling, world-changing, granola-eating idealist, proud of pushing myself a bit more every time.

I'm proud of myself. It took a long time, right? Whatever the future holds, I will have this, this knowledge that I can take it, the loss, the grief, the betrayal, the dizziness of life.

I'm proud of having taken the risk of falling in love and proud of my pain, proud of my humanity. I'm happy I can forgive myself, for mediocrity and lies. I'm happy I can go beyond the mediocrity and lies of others. I'm so glad I can get to know people on a deeper level than most, even when shy and awkward. I take emotional risks, and I pay for it. But in the end, I have beautiful friendships.

Thank you, self, for being proud of me. And now, work.