I have nothing to write about, really. Am just bored and fidgety and decided to do this instead of annoying my mother or keeping my dog awake against her will. Ain't I nice?

So, in some totally random reading i was doing just now, i found the following sentence by a certain Julian Barnes: "I don't believe in God, but I miss Him." I don't know why, exactly, but I'm thinking about this sentence, trying to wrap my mind around it because I understand what he's saying. Not about God, though. I don't miss God. But I do miss other things that I don't believe in either. Like perfect people. I miss the people I once (long ago!) looked up to as absolutely perfect, too good to be true. Most of them were teachers, but some were friends or other random people I met. I'd think they were so perfect, and so I'd try getting to know them further and deeper... only to find, of course, that they aren't perfect. And yet I miss thinking that they were. I also miss being completely at home somewhere. Again, I dont know if I ever have been that... maybe in my early childhood in the mountains, but at least since I was seven, home was always "here but there too"... the particular heres and theres have changed several times and gotten more convoluted over the years, but both have always existed. And still, I miss being completely at home somewhere.These are two of many examples that come to mind, but there are many more... and they form a certain sense of loss... of having lost something that doesn't exist. It isn't a bad feeling, just a sort-of emptiness... actually, that guy put it well... it's like missing something. Makes you feel a little empty at its absence but also makes you smile at its memory. Bittersweet.

I also miss a part of myself that may never have existed... or perhaps she has for a few moments or days here and there, not much more. Should I describe her to you? She's the part of myself that I like thinking of as writerly, although she may not actually be writing. She's someone very closely in touch with the natural world... someone who remembers the joys of my childhood by the river and trekking through mountains, someone who hasn't lost touch with all that. She is humble and gentle because how can one not be if one is so closely in touch with nature, especially with nature on a scale as majestic as the Himalayas? (Sarah Wider pointed out teh the root of the word "humble" derives from the Latin hummus-- earth. She also pointed out that this may be the root of the phrase "being down to earth"). She's also closely, deeply in touch with other people and their stories. She knows the power of imagination. She wakes up every morning believing in the beauty of the people and the world and the work that she does. don't know if that me has ever existed; I know she hasn't existed for more than a few hours or, at most, a couple of days at a time. But I miss her. I feel that same bittersweet emptiness mixed with nostalgia without her.

Haha, I'm not making any sense, am I? Oh well, as I warned you right in the beginning of this post, I had nothing in particular to say, was just shaking of fboredom and fidgetiness. I'm ready to go do something a little more useful with my evening now!