This is one of the oddest things about pregnancy so far: that I have copious amounts of time, awake, late late in the evening. I’m usually dead asleep by at least eleven, and yet that has become the earliest time I actually turn in. I’ve spent, or tried to spend, a lot of that time online, usually reading message boards and hoping someone would post something, or hanging around in a chat room or eagle-eyeing both my Twitter feed and Google Reader, just in case someone posts something I can sink my teeth into, or at least amuse myself with.
I really don’t know what to do this late at night. I’ve never really done it before.
But, you know, I’ve had this thing called a blog for some time. Were I so inclined, I could, you know, write something.
I’m getting to the point, post-move, of having enough energy and concentration to start thinking again — real thinking, the kind I can devote to study or self-examination or pondering the universe. Being eight months pregnant is (much) tougher on my body than my mind, and, although I spend a lot of time being tired or sleeping because of the strain of carrying around a rather localized 25 lbs., I also am starting to get a little stir-crazy for something to sink my mental teeth into. I’ve considered brushing up on Latin/Yiddish/[Insert Language Here], or finding something to translate, or going to the library for some good feminist theory or general history to study, and yet the time hasn’t quite been right for any of these things yet.
There is yet much organizing to do, unpacking to accomplish, and I could theoretically do some of that in the evenings as well, although Joel might find it rather difficult to sleep while I’m bustling around. Besides, that’s not quite the kind of pursuit that my mind is looking for, although making things fit into spaces does get my analytical side going somewhat.
I feel like I’m waiting to settle down a bit, like there are a few more pieces that need to fall into place before I can act. It’s odd, because I don’t have any sense of panic or hurry; it’s just Not Time Yet.
So I write, here, in the hopes of getting going whatever it is needs to be started; in hopes of finding whatever it will be that will be enough.