Where my thought's escaping

I come up for air on the weekends. After swimming through rush hour on the downtown train, crowds around 34th street and piles of memos, applications and spreadsheets, I breathe.

Sometimes breathing involves lots of sleep, lots of doing nothing, or lots. This weekend it was the perfect combination. Excessive amounts of sleep. Excessive amounts of fun. Adequate amounts of productivity. and thought. I wasn't ready to dive in again to the torrid sea of my job, and Monday mornings always feel much more like a belly flop, but here I am. Perhaps the best part of being at work today is realizing that it's become normal. Normalcy is also what I've realized has set into my daily routine. My apartment is now my home. It's all normal, I'm living it. Yet, it's anything but mundane. Concurrently I devote most of my thoughts to realizing how extra-ordinary it all is.

As I walked home late Thursday night I remembered to look down the streets I was crossing instead of strait ahead. I reminded myself to see what was in view all around me at the moment and keep from focusing just on the path ahead. Down the street, the buildings come to an abrupt end, as does the street. In the gap between the buildings the blackness of the East (?) River borders the horizon. Without fail, there is always a ferry breaking up the blackness, dotted with lights. And filling the view are the lights of New Jersey in the distance and Downtown Manhattan in the foreground. The vibrant lights breaking up the nothingness, signaling life are my everyday scenery. Like thousands of visible electrons, the dots of light are contained energy full of potential. Parallel to life. and I'm home.