slow sunday morning xi
It's 1:12pm, morning enough. I'm at home for this one, in my own sweet bed with some President's Choice drip coffee. Missing my moka pot back at school, but I might as well enjoy the flavours of home.
I visited a friend in New York this last weekend (there's my no-Sunday excuse!), and in our last lunch together, we had a conversation about narrowing down our disciplines, as well as what we share vs. don't with the world. She's studying law, and has fully dedicated herself to academia and the more rigorous side of writing in that regard, although she was previously pursuing creative writing and poetry more. She of course still writes on her own, but doesn't share it with the world. As she told me, paraphrased, "I know that my writing's good, I don't need the approval of the outside world. It feels really nice having this great little piece of writing sitting in my pocket, just for me."
I've been feeling this more lately. I always flip-flop on it, and I'm sure if you've been keeping up with me for a bit it's probably a concept that's absolutely bored to death. I've been enjoying emailing people lately, writing letters, and using those mediums as my notebook more than "publishable" things, such as posts and even zines. I don't think I'll ever have enough satisfaction through keeping things to myself as my friend has, but even keeping my writing so limited as to just be read by my friend's eyes, by people I admire, feels like I'm practicing my own version of backing out from the storm of public perception.
In other news, the temperature is finally starting to slowly creep up. Still cold by international standards, but for us Canadians, 0 degrees is like beach weather compared to the last few months. I cannot wait for it to be warm again!