And then things changed.
I started seeing #coffeeneuring posts all over Instagram and Twitter this past weekend, and then today, I saw the only other Philadelphian I know (other than the one with whom I live) who has participated in coffeeneuring post his trip on Instagram, and I got jealous. Not even a FOMO-type jealousy, where there's jealousy for jealousy's sake. But a jealousy of wanting to be out on my bike, riding to coffee shops, and enjoying autumn. And then there was the jealousy of broadcasting it. I got jealous of my former self. I used to write all the time: academic papers, blog posts, journal entries, and the like. Now all I write are emails, and lots of them. When the point of email is to keep it short, unemotional, and impersonal, there's little room for any sort of expression. It's hard to consider anything that I do "writing."
As is typical of folks my age (so I'm told, though it always feels like everyone else has "it" "figured out"), life has been a little transient in recent memory. Since I Mastered Arts (all of them, yup) and moved from Seattle to Philadelphia in June 2014, I:
- have lived in three homes
- have had six jobs