2004-05-27 @ 5:50 p.m. | When will I ever get exciting again?

Song in my head: Summer Breeze, the Type O Negative version

Mood: clam - calm, even

Current book: Enemy Aliens: Double Standards & Constitutional Freedoms in the War on Terrorism


Goddamn, I'm in a rut.

Thank god my pain is over - I'm still finishing up my antibiotics, but no more bladder infection, no more agony, no more being temporarily homebound.

But yeah, rut-stuck I am, anyway.

Part of it is, I know, that this month my exercise has gone out the window - my yoga teacher had to take two weeks off, and I haven't been able to go swimming all month (okay, I lie - I could go on my own, but I find it hard to get motivated to go alone; going with Andi and Doron is what keeps me on task, and they just moved into a new place, so we won't be back to swimming until next week) and anyway, I find that I really need the guidance of my routines, but that they can also confine me too.

But tonight I go back to yoga, and I really think that will kickstart me back into activity. Between being inactive and being sick, I've been feeling all out of sorts, and need an injection of fresh air. (I almost wrote "infection" of fresh air, but no, no infections!)

Not to mention that I've been shaken up by the murder in my neighborhood. It's hard for me to tell what's making news outside of NYC proper, but I know my parents have heard about it, and I think it might have been national - the Julliard student who was found nude and strangled and perhaps ritualistically posed in Inwood Hill Park - the closest thing I have to a backyard. She lived on my street, just one block west of my intersection. And here I've been having this wanderlust, wanting to get outside in nature, go to the park with my discman and get a good workout, and it just doesn't feel safe.

Goddamn, I know how self-centered that makes me sound. It's not that I haven't been thinking about this poor girl, what she was like, how I must know all the stores she went to and the take out places she would have ordered from, and the kind of life she had - she sounded so vivacious - and how terrified she must have been, and how I hope she knew little pain and death was swift. But I still can't shake that nervousness for not feeling safe in my own neighborhood. And anger that as always, the mere fact that I'm a woman puts me at bigger risk, that I'm reminded again that I can never be at ease, really, that I'm always a potential target. That can be so damn limiting. I have enough trouble limiting myself - I don't need some sick killer stalking my neighborhood to make it worse.

Bah. This whining and lack of clarity is what happens when I write on the side, on the spur of the moment, with no reflection or editing, but it's better than no words, right?

Tomorrow Ben and I are renting a car and driving up to Marty and Aimee's, and Neil is coming with his new puppy and without his freeloading, on-parole girlfriend, and my parents are coming up for one day too, and I'm just really looking forward to a long weekend away from the city. Ah, greenery, here I come! (I'm also hoping to make use of the hottub, too.)

Off to yoga!

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