winding down.

So. I leave Chapel Hill on Thursday to go to my dad's house for a few days. I'll hang out there, pick up some clothes and books I left at his house last year - including my Naot, since I feel guilty for wearing Birkenstocks. We might head to North Myrtle Beach for a day, but who knows. It will be a nice end to my time down South this summer.

The main reason I came to NC was because I desperately needed to get out of the city. It is not good for me to be there, nor is it healthy for me. It can be a lonely, uninviting, isolating place, especially if you've gotten used to a friendly community. I needed to be in open spaces again. In unpretentious environments. Somewhere where I didn't feel self-conscious every time I walked out the door, or sensorily assaulted walking down the street. I needed to return to myself, if that makes sense. Did I miss the friends I made in NY? For sure. I missed them a lot. But it was also nice to just kick back and relax here. I came down here to work and to write. I did both, although less than I'd intended. I got to read a lot. My moods were rocky, I will admit. Whether that's something personal or whether that's just part of a writer's temperament, I'm not entirely sure yet.

But as an MFAer at Columbia, can I (guiltily) tell you that it is SO NICE to be somewhere where people haven't heard of Karen Thompson Walker and her 7-figure advance for her debut book? Where people don't know Junot Diaz or could care less about the new Richard Ford book? There is something refreshing about that. There is something refreshing about a place that takes the NYT book reviews with a grain of salt, but takes pride in displaying North Carolina writers. The lack of pretention is like a cold spray of water on a hot day. I know that when I get back, I will be just as anxious as everyone else, about Thesis Workshop, what the future holds after this year, whether I will ever sell a book, and who in our cohort will make it big. I feel the pressure already, probably much of it self-imposed.

I didn't get to eat ice cream at Maple View, sitting outside on the porch in the rocking chairs, but that's okay. I got to sit outside Southern Village's Weaver St and see my co-op worker friends there. I got to have drinks and dinner with my old coworkers and will be doing that this week again. I had coffee with my running coach, who has become a dear friend. I've spent a lot of time alone, for various reasons. I think it was good for me. Writing can often be a solitary pursuit, and after living in NYC, where you can be lonely but never alone, it was good to actually be alone.

And to end my time in the South, when I get to my dad's, I will be eating the Trifecta of bad-for-you Southern food: CookOut, Sonic, and Bojangles. Gluten be damned - chicken biscuits, hushpuppies, Cheerwine ice cream floats, and other Southern-fried goodness, here I come. Don't worry, I'll take pictures.