Q: What is the dilemma that drives the action of your life's plot?

I have been quiet this summer, and less spontaneous than I would like to be.

Having class every single day, sometimes at 9 am (and being in the only class that meets everyday) has a great deal to do with my lack of venturesomeness in Oxford. Once again, I confirm silently to myself that I travel best when I am on my own. Add other people into the scenery, and I get distracted. I forget about how I would go about exploring a city left to my own devices and go along with others' plans. In the end, I notice something missing. A sense of adventure, curiosity, the unexpected. When I hang out with others, the unexpected encounters, the haiku moments, the impromptu conversations I refer back to wistfully sometime in the future seem to be so rare.

Sure, there is time enough to hang out at the pub up the street, but if that's what we do every time we go out, I just might want to stay in, read for a while, and go to sleep early for once. And yes, when I stay in, sometimes I will end up missing out on future plans. Today, I found myself wishing that I had gone out last night so I could have known about the morning punting excursion that followed the pub outing. The wish lasts for a second or two, no more. I am well rested, the river and the little boats are there still, and they will be there until I leave this city.

The primary dilemma of my life, I thought, was deciding between familiarity and adventure. Now, I realize that this dilemma is merely a manifestation of a larger one: seeking happiness alone, independently, in many transient interactions and in moments that are beautiful because they are passing moments, OR in developing relationships with people and places that become familiar and comfortable in time. Disequilibrium or comfort?

Outside, a kid is crying. The mother yells all of a sudden: "SHUT. UP. Just shut up!" Some city soundscapes are comforting; some are pollution.

I miss swimming.

tk