This morning, I woke up around six. Something in the dim red dawn light on the building next to mine put me in mind of Niven’s short story “Inconstant Moon”, about a night when the moon is unusually bright because it’s reflecting the light of a sun flare busily burning out all life on the other side of the world. It ends a little before dawn.
I went to the bathroom, turned on the heat and sunlamp in the studio, and went back to sleep.
I woke up some time later. I lay in bed reading for a while. I think I got out around eleven or noon. I then sat in the comfy chair in the studio, continuing to read.
I hadn’t docked the laptop in its usual place last night, so I didn’t turn on music, as I normally do. Instead, I sat there in silence. The only noises were the birds outside and the very occasional passing car. Sometime after oneish, there started to be an occasional wave of cars – people driving around to their Thanksgiving plans, I supposed. I just kept quietly reading. After a while I thought about turning on some music, but decided not to disturb the silence. Despite a tail end of a song’s chorus that kept looping through my head.
I found myself avoiding Twitter.
I found myself looking at a story linked from Metafilter and declining to leave a comment.
I found myself pondering what I’d do for lunch and dinner, and seriously debating sort of fasting. All I’d had so far was a light breakfast of yogurt and honey, and occasional handfuls of trail mix.
I’ve got an invitation to a Thanksgiving dinner at a friend’s place. I’m glad I have it; it makes my decision to not do anything into a conscious choice. Some part of me starts to feel lonely on these Big Social Gathering holidays if nobody invited me anywhere at all. But having an invitation to politely decline, from people I’d generally enjoy spending time with? That part is delightfully silent.
I seem to have settled into a sort of quiet anti-Thanksgiving. Not quite fasting, and deliberately remaining aloof from all social contact. It’s not by any means an indictment of what other people may choose to do; if a big feast with all of your tribe about you is what makes you happy, then rejoice in it.
But I’d rather just sit here all by myself and… pause, really.
I kinda should be working on stuff for the Rainfurrest website’s launch on the weekend. Or poking at Rita. But I feel content to quietly do nothing today. To find a moment of stillness in all the quiet of a day when most people are gathered with each other instead of scurrying around to all the tasks they set themselves.
To use the animal metaphor I’ve chosen for myself and shaped myself around over the years, I am having the most draconic Thanksgiving possible. It’s an absolute joy to sit here in my quiet, empty lair without having to spare a single thought to the social dance of all the mammals out there. And to let some slow, quiet thoughts drift through my mind instead of busying myself with a thousand little things.
Anyway. It’s about three thirty. I finally took a shower and put on something besides a robe. The sun’s dipped below the buildings to the southwest of my apartment. I’m going to set this entry to show up after midnight, and resume my quiet isolation. I’ll probably have a light supper after night falls; eating earlier seems to be against the spirit of whatever, exactly, I’m celebrating today.
I hope your Thanksgiving was as wonderful as mine was.
