July 13 2010

After the past two weekends I can feel myself entering into a holding pattern of introvertedness. I find myself asking questions like "How long can I go without drinking another beer?" and there being no limit to that answer. Although the past two weekends have overflowed with laughter and mirth, there is also a sense that everything is very different now: there is no 4th of July farm party, and Danielle has in fact, left. It feels as good a time as any for a break from the burdens of being a social butterfly.

I was inspired this weekend to write a late chapter scene in the novel. Moving day, and the act of moving itself, is heavy with emotion, and the perfect setting for characters to get wild. It's not so much the act of leaving that gives moving its' weight, but the tragedy of unrealized hopes, words one never said, feelings not conveyed, actions not acted upon. The idea that somehow you failed where you are now, your life for the past few years hasn't been the end-all, and now you have to rebuild.

I think about wanting to be an introvert, but then I think about the prospect of moving or a dear friend of mine moving. If I don't go after every opportunity to be with people, will I regret it in the future if one of us eventually leaves?

I did see something absolutely horrifying this weekend. On Saturday, coming back from helping Danielle move, I slowed to a stop at the intersection of St. Elmo and Broad Street. Two cars ahead of me at the red light was a white pick-up truck with a German Shepherd leashed in the bed. The German Shepherd wasn't quite tied down properly; he was putting his paws up on the side of the truck, looking at the people in the car next to him. As the light turned green, the dog somehow came out of the truck, and was dragged by its neck for 20-30 feet before the truck was able to pull over. The car in front of me and myself pulled over to see if we could help. Thankfully, the dog ended up with only a broken leg. Still, I haven't been able to stop thinking about that German Shepherd, just hanging from the back end of that truck, its legs struggling to keep up and away from the tires, and how maybe this isn't symbolic of my own life at the moment.