As the days march slowly on, I find myself taking the short view of things: I think in terms of "until the end of tonight" and "maybe tomorrow", instead of "in 30 days" or "by the end of this week". It's a spontaneous and present-focused mode of being, and one that feels unfamiliar and yet strangely comfortable at the same time. I work for hours without realizing what time it is; I eat when I'm hungry; I leave when I'm tired. I don't make myself think about where I'll be in a week, because I really just don't know.
Which, for me - a planner, an architect of time and structure, a relentless worrywort - is both odd and freeing. Weirdly, I'm not stressed out about it. It just is.
Yesterday I worked for hours on a seam treatment for my sleeve, which has gathers, lace edging, and a keyhole with button closure. It is, as I'm finding out, probably one of the more technically difficult elements of my gown, which is complicated by the fact that I don't just want it to look good; I want it to look amazing. My goal is not perfection, exactly, but pretty damn close to it. Just the right amount of effortlessness; just the right amount of lightness and movement. (I am going to be doing a lot of handsewing, for reals.)
So I've been taking my time. Sewing muslins carefully; practicing sewing lapped zippers and folding corners in bias binding; taking breaks to have mini dance parties to bubbly French electronic pop. I'm enjoying being alone, but also feeling a little unbalanced from so much isolation. For some reason, being alone makes me remember how much I like being not-alone, and how much I love my friends.
Cause even though I love you, creepy headless body-clone, talking to you just isn't the same.
Happy Sunday!
<3
Cory
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