I was changing into a tank top and pajama bottoms in the bedroom when the beau came running into the room and somersaulted onto the bed to say hi. I seized this prime opportunity to pick up the socks I’d just peeled off my feet and lunge at him in a demented attempt to jam them into his face. This led to a wrestling match over sock possession that caused me to roll off of the bed onto the floor, where I started giggling so hard that I farted.1 After a series of halfhearted attempts to tickle each other, he collapsed into breathless spasms of laughter and gasped, “My face hurts.” “Your face hurts because it’s so ugly that you broke it,” I replied, and we both started shrieking with laughter again.
Lately I've been forcing myself outside at night, no matter how much more work I have left to do. I grab my iPod and jam my feet into my shoes and I'm out the door. Reluctantly, yes, but the point is: I'm out.
So the other evening I was out there wandering around, gazing intently at the trees or the sidewalk in order to avoid making eye contact with people.1 I was thinking about absolutely nothing. It's during these moments of compulsory inactivity, of course, that your brain silently goes to work unraveling the threads of your life's fabric. And so suddenly I was hit with a realization: I'm not working towards anything right now.
Right now, I have no goals or dreams.
I read this article by Julie Klausner last week, and I haven't been able to get it out of my mind since. That's, like, time, man. A lot of it. A lot of time to spend thinking about one article.
Have you read it yet? No? Go ahead and give it a whirl. When you come back, I'll have a confession and some thoughts waiting for you.
Well, this is new.
I finally did it. I finally got my ass in gear, redesigned the blog, and made the move from Wordpress.com to self-hosted. As of this writing there are a still a few kinks I need to work out, and I might mess with the styles a bit more in the coming days, but this is pretty much it.