thoughts in the dark

I am in Spain again. It is past midnight and I am sitting in the dark, in my old room. It is strange to think of it as my room, because though it is, I have not really lived here for a while. If one were to look around it, at the walls and shelves, in the drawers and on the desk, it would be hard to prove that I have been alive for the past 4 years. Only some new books and CDs have joined the rest of the stuff that litters a room that has otherwise been frozen in time since I left for college. My bits and pieces, my recent clothing, my newly accumulated junk all lies scattered across the globe and my old room has gone from being a functional living space to a storageplace for my memories.
So here I sit in the dark, enjoying a feeling I have not had in a while: it is hot in here. A dry natural heat stored up from a warm spring day in Spain. 3 days ago I was still a coat wearing kid, rambling up and down the cobblestone streets of a cold Oxford; a city that was still trying to shake off winter's frosty breath. All day I have been as lazy as one of those lions you see on the discovery channel; lying in the sun for 3 hours after having swallowed half a gazelle. While I did not eat any quadropeds today, I did do a little work around the house. But for the most part I have lounged. I am still recovering from a long and heavy trimester. Though I have technically been on spring break for a couple weeks now, I have had very little chances to get any real rest since I had virtually been working non-stop. It was nice to just sit back today.
But this day is done now. Only a couple hours divide the present from the dawn of another day. I am in one of those strange moods. Not a bad mood, but sort of a sweet sadness that I am relishing. Like an unfocused nostalgia about nothing in particular, just a reticence to go to bed and see this day die. It is a bittersweet taste, one bordering on innocent wonder as I wake to the reality of the inevitability of the passage of time. And at times like these, when you would expect serious thoughts to go along with these deep strirrings, all I can think of is: "how come it isn't indecent for guys to walk around without shirts on?" Yeah, I don't understand how my mind works. My heart thinks one way and my brain beats in a different direction: "maybe it is because their breasts do not have any sort of sexual or reproductive function." The night always does strange things to me. I have had some of the best conversations I have ever had at night. There is something comforting about the night. It is a safe place to let yourself go. Your heart is free to feel, and your brain is free to ponder. Now if only my brain would ponder things worth sharing! "If men did not have any private functions going on in their crotches, would they have to wear pants?"