![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
I've been worrying today about how I don't feel much like myself lately. I guess I'm just still stuck between two lives. It's been almost a month since we've been living here, but I still don't feel like doing things that I normally like to do. I don't want to watch any of my TV shows, I don't want to tat, and I don't even want to fiddle around on the internet. M thinks that I've defined the problem myself pretty clearly already--this just doesn't feel like home yet. Presumably, it will and I'll start feeling like this is actually my life again. This restlessness is for the birds. Of course, if I would stop worrying about things and let it rest, maybe it would solve itself a little more quickly. I've never been one to not analyze emotions into the ground, though.
Further evidence of my not-quite-me behavior is in my suddenly freakish reflexes. Grace has never been my strongest point, really. I muddled through middle school somewhat clumsily, but I think my teen years took the edge off of it. That doesn't mean that I was any less awkward, but I wasn't always the one who got her glasses broken when whacked in the head with a softball, or fall over and sprain my wrist while running backwards in gym class, or topple my bike over and break my foot. (All of those are real incidents, incidentally.) I fell out of a closet once or twice, but for the most part, I became a little more coordinated but not exactly graceful. For the last couple of weeks, though, I've been oddly coordinated. I've caught several things while still in the air, and that has sure never been my thing before. And incidentally, if you're thinking that I must still be awfully clumsy if I'm constantly dropping things to be catching, they haven't even all been things that I've dropped, but have slid off of the dashboard in the car, or off a desk, or whatever. It's really kind of freaky.
That does remind me of one more little tidbit of clumsy information about myself When I spent the summer in Sweden with M, it was like fourth grade all over again as far as my gracefulness. I broke half of the poor boy's glasses, and I even shattered a Pepsi bottle. I kept assuring him that I wasn't normally like that, but I don't think he really believed me until after he moved and I proved over time that I don't typically break at least one piece of drinkware per week. I'm going to go out on a crazy limb here and theorize that it has something to do with the difference in the atmospheric conditions, and magnetic pulls of the earth and all that sneaky science stuff. M and I just embarked on a detailed conversation about whether or not that was the best grammatical way to put that thought, but since neither of us are physicists, or geographers, or nutritional anthropologists for that matter, we really don't know. In any case, I honestly think it must have been some outside force causing it. It's not any weirder than M's directional skills. Before he moved, he was always quite skilled at automatically knowing, in any circumstance, which direction was north. It was instinctive--a human compass, so to speak. After he moved, though, he completely lost that skill and doesn't even have a clue which direction he's going. Pretty weird, huh?
I still can't believe how much wildlife there is around here. As I've mentioned, I have a window just by my desk. We have two groundhog buddies--we've named them Rex and Marsha. There's an astonishingly red bird and a lovely blue jay that are partial to the stretch of power line that runs just ten feet from the window. My mom saw a racoon, and there are three deer ambling about. We've seen lots of unremarkable black birds as well as a hummingbird, and just now, two hawks swooped by the window, just over our deck. It's a little disconcerting, and also, a little weird to move to a larger town and be assaulted with all the wildlife. ;) We had a creek and woods behind the house before, and the only animals we ever saw were cats. Well, and dogs, but the cats ran freely. I guess a few of the dogs did too, at that. I really don't miss our neighbors, have I mentioned that part before?
Further evidence of my not-quite-me behavior is in my suddenly freakish reflexes. Grace has never been my strongest point, really. I muddled through middle school somewhat clumsily, but I think my teen years took the edge off of it. That doesn't mean that I was any less awkward, but I wasn't always the one who got her glasses broken when whacked in the head with a softball, or fall over and sprain my wrist while running backwards in gym class, or topple my bike over and break my foot. (All of those are real incidents, incidentally.) I fell out of a closet once or twice, but for the most part, I became a little more coordinated but not exactly graceful. For the last couple of weeks, though, I've been oddly coordinated. I've caught several things while still in the air, and that has sure never been my thing before. And incidentally, if you're thinking that I must still be awfully clumsy if I'm constantly dropping things to be catching, they haven't even all been things that I've dropped, but have slid off of the dashboard in the car, or off a desk, or whatever. It's really kind of freaky.
That does remind me of one more little tidbit of clumsy information about myself When I spent the summer in Sweden with M, it was like fourth grade all over again as far as my gracefulness. I broke half of the poor boy's glasses, and I even shattered a Pepsi bottle. I kept assuring him that I wasn't normally like that, but I don't think he really believed me until after he moved and I proved over time that I don't typically break at least one piece of drinkware per week. I'm going to go out on a crazy limb here and theorize that it has something to do with the difference in the atmospheric conditions, and magnetic pulls of the earth and all that sneaky science stuff. M and I just embarked on a detailed conversation about whether or not that was the best grammatical way to put that thought, but since neither of us are physicists, or geographers, or nutritional anthropologists for that matter, we really don't know. In any case, I honestly think it must have been some outside force causing it. It's not any weirder than M's directional skills. Before he moved, he was always quite skilled at automatically knowing, in any circumstance, which direction was north. It was instinctive--a human compass, so to speak. After he moved, though, he completely lost that skill and doesn't even have a clue which direction he's going. Pretty weird, huh?
I still can't believe how much wildlife there is around here. As I've mentioned, I have a window just by my desk. We have two groundhog buddies--we've named them Rex and Marsha. There's an astonishingly red bird and a lovely blue jay that are partial to the stretch of power line that runs just ten feet from the window. My mom saw a racoon, and there are three deer ambling about. We've seen lots of unremarkable black birds as well as a hummingbird, and just now, two hawks swooped by the window, just over our deck. It's a little disconcerting, and also, a little weird to move to a larger town and be assaulted with all the wildlife. ;) We had a creek and woods behind the house before, and the only animals we ever saw were cats. Well, and dogs, but the cats ran freely. I guess a few of the dogs did too, at that. I really don't miss our neighbors, have I mentioned that part before?
