I’m not sure what to wear tomorrow. I am going straight from work to a poetry-writing-workshop/wine-tasting/Ethiopian-dinner. I wasn’t supposed to have any meetings outside the department, which would have meant I could be pretty casual, but a meeting I was supposed to have today got moved to tomorrow. I need to find something both appropriate for a meeting and for hanging around with a slam poet named Toaster. I’m thinking all black with a statement necklace, but I’m may still change my mind.
On Thursdays there is a team meeting right when I get in. I usually don’t have time to get a coffee and some breakfast until after. Recently there have been a lot of birthdays and people leaving and new people coming, so my boss has been bringing donuts to lots of these meetings. I don’t think we are celebrating anything tomorrow, so I’ll be on my own for breakfast.
I’ve recently starting reading The Goldfinch. I had been on the library wait list for the Kindle edition, and I finally got it yesterday. I may read a little tonight, but I mostly read on the train. When I have a good book it makes me look forward to my commute.
The weather is supposed to be beautiful tomorrow. I should go for a walk during lunch. I spend too many lunches at my desk. I stare at so many screens my eyes hurt.
I’m nervous about the evening event I’m going at tomorrow. It is this.
The poetry writing workshop is the least scary part. I don’t consider myself much of a poet, but I like to stretch my writing with challenging forms. I think it is beneficial for my writing in general. No, a poetry writing workshop doesn’t scare me. Even one led by a guy named Toaster.
It’s the latter parts of the event that make me nervous.
I like wine and Ethiopian food, so one would think that a wine tasting followed by an Ethiopian dinner would be a perfect evening for me. I’m nervous because I don’t know anyone else who is going. I’m a horrible mingler. Meeting new people is awkward and exhausting, but I’m trying to be better about it. I’m going to try to stick it out and not go home early like a wimp.
Tomorrow (assuming I don’t wimp out) I will not be home in time to see my kids. That always makes me sad.
Tomorrow morning I will regret staying up too late tonight because inevitably I will be up too late tonight.
As I am writing this post about tomorrow two songs are battling it out in my head: “Tomorrow” from Annie and “Tomorrow Belongs to Me” from Cabaret. I guess that last bit is actually about today, but disturbing mash ups like that are usual fare for brain. I’m sure there will be another one tomorrow.
After all…tomorrow is another day.
This post was written for Blogapalooz-Hour when ChicagoNow bloggers are given a topic and are challenged to publish a post an hour later. The prompt this time was “Write about your tomorrow. Not figuratively, literally write about anything that you hope, fear, believe, expect — anything — that you may experience tomorrow.”
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