My last post was... not so good. I'm not promising that this one will be spectacular or even terribly readable, but it will be more focused? I think? I think it has something to do with me being able to think again. I was a thinker in the past, so I wasn't too worried that I'd never be able to think again. But still. I hit a wall this morning. I was irritable and sleepy and probably irritable because I was sleepy. Running helped. Running always seems to help unless I overdo it, haven't eaten properly, or have a pulled groin muscle. (Did you know I told the whole world about my pulled groin muscle on a dating website? Needless to say, I got a lot of messages from a lot of gross groin loving goofs. Then I paused for half a millisecond and thought, "Why the freak am I even on this website?" I'll tell you why. Because I am human and am occasionally desiring of affection. THAT'S why.)
So now that I have finished running and am now running on an endorphin high, I will spend the rest of my Tuesday contributing virtually nothing to society. I will lose and find myself in a book. I will be stubborn and stupid and spend several hours outside despite the gunky air. I will undoubtedly worry about something almost entirely made up inside of my sometimes-thinking head. I will return books to the library and check out more, essentially checking out an identity or perhaps collecting clues to whatever it is I am searching for. I will cave in and bake banana bread tonight. I will write by hand, tingling fingers be damned.
What luxury. And, of course, I feel downright guilty for having these hours and hours and hours given to me to explore. Society tells me I'm useless unless I have a job or a family. Well, then, consider me useless. Useless and content with watching the sparrows return, the ice melt from the branches, the light in the sky lingering and hinting at longer, fuller days.