Sea Legs describes the feeling you get when you first step on land after an extended time aboard boat. Your legs are so accustomed to the minute twitching efforts required to maintain balance, that it takes them time to adjust to the stability of solid ground. You step a bit too firmly, legs spread more than necessary, crouched ever so slightly.
Just now, I'm still feeling my legs, as I stepped off my old blog, and the baggage it carried, stepped into hiatus for a few weeks, and now return. It's like coming home after a bout overseas. You're still the same, but then, you're ever changed. Somethings simply cannot return to normal. Subtle things: your taste for bread; the commonplace of mineral water on your shelves; your way of moving through space.
I can't say for sure what form or style will emerge on this blog. In many ways it will sound like me. Those of you who are familiar from my previous two years of blogging may recognize me. And yet, I am changed, if but yet in subtle ways. I am no longer blue, or angry, or depressed over not landing a tenure-track job, fresh from completing the PhD. Sure, I still harbor feelings to that effect. But they are less frequent, and less powerful.
I step off the boat, and notice how less salty smells the air. I'm ready for this.
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