An Abandoned Building

The building in which I work is currently empty, save a few other RA's and residents who are busy working or sleeping. The lull between the sessions has sent most of the residents home- some for good, not to return until the fall semester begins. That leaves me with a very empty building.

Sure, I have used my time in the building to catch up on sleep and even study for the GRE. I'm almost done with a fantastic book (The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle by Haruki Murakami) and I've had dance parties in my room every night to make up for the fact that the pool is closed and my body needs the movement I usually get at the pool. The pool also makes up a kind of meditation for me. The constant rush of the water, the regulated breathing and the lack of thought as I push and pull myself through the water is relaxing and solitary; plus I get to be in the water, one of my favorite places in the world. And so, since the Rec Center has closed for the week, I have supplemented the dance parties with a thirty minute meditation, just clearing my mind and center my soul.

But, despite all the things I am doing to fill my time, to keep my idle hands from reaching for potato chips or oreos, I find myself retreating inside my own mind. I find myself imagining futures and obsessing over things that may never happen, that probably can never happen. And it's not only the future I find myself ruminating on; its all kinds of things. The beauty of nature, the annoyance of work, the dread I feel when I think of any number of topics that fill me with anxiety- all subject to the extreme introversion I find myself in. And then there are the ultimate thoughts- who am I? Not just my favorite foods, my favorite books, my friends, but on some deeper level. Am I made up of all those other things or is there something more? Is there something outside of those things, my experiences and my collections of thoughts? Am I different in any way?
Probably not.

I blame this particular line of inquiry on The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle. Magical surrealism always makes my head spin.
But you should still read it.