Winded

2003-01-31 - 1:46 a.m.

Having someone live with you is like an endurance race. At first, it feels kind of good, using those old friendship muscles for the first time in -ages-, getting your first wind, seeing landscapes that were once familiar, or even are completely new territory. The race can be won at that point, the ending, if not in sight, is known, is attainable, and it's easy to remember how good you'll feel when you win.

But shortly you reach the point of self-monitoring: how am I doing? I think I'm okay. Can I still make it? Sure. I think. This is where I'm at now...a little winded, but still feeling okay. It will be a relief when it's over, but I know I'll feel good, right? Just so long as I don't cramp up, and the cramps are a long way off.

I can see the next bit, the part where things are going bad, where the muscles (and the politeness) are feeling strained. All the momentum is gone and you're running sheerly on will. The focus isn't on the end of the race, or at least never for very long, it's on the moment. How bad is it -now-? I think Pookie is already here, because he comes home from school, makes small-talk with Eli, and the very second that I wake up, Pookie flees into the bedroom and plays videogames until he has to study, and then studies until he goes to bed. This is the period where the world narrows down to as fine a point as you can make it, where the world has to be small if you're going to keep going.

Things are possibly compounded by the fact that Eli just rejected a job that I might consider if I weren't comfortable here and didn't hate sales. It would be nice if he contained his disdain for call-centre jobs until I'm out of earshot.

Time for another glass of water and another stretch of the race.

Cheers,

The Magus

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