/noun/ an act of determining a result mentally; the end purpose
aim, design, goal, hope, ideal, means, objective, purpose, thoughts, view, wish
My intention this week was completely blown. I awoke qualm free Wednesday morning, lounged in bed reading Madame Bovary, showered and was granted a good hair day by the powers that be. An unusually bright, balmy October day greeted me at the door, and I went off to school complacently pleased with life. My lit. seminar engaged in enticing conversation with Avital Ronell’s, Crack Wars. Following class, a fellow writer shared her refreshingly intellectual reflections with me as we discussed some of life’s interesting caveats. Had I not been so highly caffeinated, I might have noticed some foreshadowing at this point, but I didn’t. Instead I capitalized on the gorgeous sunshine with an afternoon jaunt, heading down to Kerrytown for a bewitching bookstore crawl.
Everything was going swimmingly upon entering store number one. Motte & Bailey Booksellers offers an amazing selection in a wide variety of genres (specializing in history but they have plenty of literature and lit crit. as well). The awesome ginger brew from the neighboring TeaHaus contributed to an overwhelming sensory overload as my eyes giddily scanned the neatly stocked shelves. A propped door allowed Autumn to waft through stacks and stacks of books out-growing their former mantles, and I suddenly found myself aquatinted with a gorgeously bound edition of The Canterbury Tales hiding amongst the (three full ledges!) devoted to Chaucer. It was love at first sight, but it ended up not working out for the two of us; I wanted to see other books.
So, we proceeded down the block to The Kaleidoscope, Books and Collectables, a corner niche full of odds and ends that closely resembles a well used attic, complete with NPR in the background and thousands of weathered page turners. It was stimuli overload in the best way possible, and I found entirely too many must-haves over $35 for my liking. While I was on the precipice of springing for a worn out copy of Gertrud, by Hermann Hesse, I heard a voice proclaiming from my peripherals, “The meter ran out a minute ago. They gave us a ticket.” And that was it. Book shut, ticket issued, intention blown.
From there, my day deteriorated faster than Suzanne Collins’ ability to flesh out a plot. I gave up my personal library covets in order to satisfy the whims of the meter maid. I sat through an two hour introductory Spanish class (deprived of any ’electronic devices’, food, drink, or gum, and therefore any productivity) as my professor (who stopped us periodically so that she might finish chewing her slice of Bumpy Cake) hurried us unpreparedly through an unorganized midterm guide. After all that jazz and before driving an hour home back to my messy apartment, I stopped by my grandparents’ to grab some mail. I was rewarded with jury duty, a notice that a bank account I closed six months ago was now open and overdrawn, and an second audit from the university requiring three ridiculous classes (one of which is the aforementioned Spanish class, and the other two not having been on my primary audit at all) before they would agree to surrender my degree.
I got home just in time to watch Verlander and Valverde (again Leyland? Really??) let San Fran and their giant panda run their block all over us. Let’s not even get into Thursday (worked a double, did three loads of laundry, and Detroit lost yet again). Wow, the world has not hated me this hard in a minute. I thought back to my intention for Wednesday, what had I done to cause this universal conspiration? Further ransacking of my memory proved that I must not have set one, and that I couldn’t even remember the last time I had.
Somewhat guiltily, I dropped in on a Vinyasa class at The Shelter this morning. I departed heat stricken and panting from having skipped for a month straight, but I found my intention. Upon returning home, I played eight straight hours of Skyrim, and observed life from a quasi enlightened first person shooter POV. Wandering the realm of Tamriel (which is in a terrible state of cultural disrepair following the reintroduction of dragons), I considered our own realm and re-evaluated my week in a fresh light. What I’ve decided, is that we need more about the books, the stories, and the quests that we pursue rather than the lists, papers, and emails that shackle us constantly. A happy world is going to have more going for it always; whether or not the inbox is empty and the free credit score says 750 is superfluous. It’s time to stop keeping score, and start doing your own thing. That is where true progression comes from, not from a salary check and corporate perks. We must live our own ideas, not someone else’s. A bit of yoga wisdom summarizes eloquently … “Nothing forced is forceful.”