While out for dinner last night for the first time in over a year, I asked my friend, “What would you do if men had a 9 pm curfew?” Her right hand covered her chest and she told me that she caught a chill.
I have been repeating the words, “knit,” and, “purl,” for several days now. They have become the chant I sing in the evenings. “Knit, purl, knit, purl, knit, purl….”
I’ve had a note on my desk to write something about gumption for about a month now. Oddly, it’s been difficult to sit down and write it. I haven’t felt like it.
It wouldn’t be so frustrating if I would just accept the futility of constantly trying to figure out what I want to do with my time and resources. The more direction I give myself, it seems, the harder it is for me to continue down a productive, gainful path. I end up in the gutter… Continue reading Aiming for the spare | trying to figure it out, always and again
These days, it’s easy enough for me to fry up, boil, or even poach an egg. I can’t be doing much else, mind you, while I’m making breakfast because I have trouble managing multiple tasks simultaneously. This results in poor timing and cold toast.
I don’t know how to find the cable channels that I pay for. There should be 30 that I have access to among the 9999 in the guide. I’m not bothered, though.
A lot more happens in hallways than we are often aware of.
I recently picked up a copy of Sketch for a Theory of the Emotions by Jean-Paul Sartre, a book I’ve been meaning to read for a while. Reading philosophy is a lot harder than I remember it being.
Running into your ex creates confusion and it’s hard to figure out what you’re thinking.