E: Ask me why

So it's another night sitting up. I wouldn't say I can't sleep -- I haven't tried. I thought I would do this.

The last couple of nights, Mel and I have neen watching this Brazilian time travel show Back to 15, and naturally it got me thinking about my own time travel: this blog. It only goes back so far, but that's far enough. I was reading posts from the end of Grade 12. And you know, the kid was really starting to get a flow with the patter. It was very recognizeably my voice, and while I didn't have all the writing tics I later developed -- or even my ability to self-edit -- I knew my way around a turn of phrase. Impressive for an 18-year old. By comparison, my mind today is mush, garbled nonsense from the daily grind and babytalking my wife. Actually that's an artform. That's love poetry.

I hit upon a post back then where I complain about too many dishes in the sink and needing to get writing done. Boy, the less things change, huh? Lots of vague talk though. You don't even really know whst's going on with the kid. Don't blame him though, it was always embarrassing when you mentioned someone on the blog and they saw it.

He went on and on about every minute detail of the day. I could never. Oh sure I can ramble. But would I tell you about the incredibly stupid email I received from some external partners? About my difficulties procuring stock for a top sci-fi writer? About my embarrassment that I forgot to put my OOO on while I was away? Even new experiences aren't new experiences. I'm not 18 anymore, something really needs to be special to rate the blog. Like new toilets. 

Otherwise I'm a little crusty.

I was sitting, listening to music, thinking about how we are how the universe experiences itself. (You know, as you do, so matter of factly.) Life's not a waste if you fill it with good things. Even if you work yourself sore all the time and are too tired to experience all the zestiness of a Mountain Dew commercial, exposing yourself to art and ideas and small moments make a life. Ecen just being the person who observed someone else's art. I may not always feel this way, but hey, I'm an optimist today. Maybe I'm just looking to embracd any mode of thought that suggests I'm in a good spot.

I fret over my next piece of writing, but at least I've written things that meant something to someone. That might even be better than getting 20k likes on a video of different accents. Not that I'd know what that's like.

Okay, I think I'm ready. Ah, and it even seems to be raining outside the window. Perfection. Keep on rockin'

-SW