relations

I must first point out that I am a little disoriented. I am always a little disoriented, but at this specific moment I am confused because I am sitting at a different desk in a different room and this is making my brain do all sorts of, well, different things. I explained that exceptionally well. Very beautifully written, my dear. Anyway, my weirdo neighbors are unloading a bunch of weird things out of their not-at-all-weird truck, which happens to be parked right in front of the desk where I normally write and NONE OF THIS MATTERS WHY AM I WASTING MY TIME AND YOUR TIME BY TYPING THIS. Okay. Okay, breathe.

Breathe. Should I spend this paragraph typing (not writing, but typing) about breathing and living in the present moment and being one with the universe? No. No, I shall not. But I will briefly mention that I am going to give yoga the old college try again. I am still having trouble running like I used to, yet I remain restless after running. My body or brain or something still wants to move. And so I wander around the dumb Orem neighborhoods for hours and don't know what exactly to do with myself. Well, what if I did yoga? It would probably do all of those things it's supposed to do, right? Center me, connect me with my body, turn me into a giant kale leaf. All of those things. Let's see how it goes. I'll report back, don't you worry.

This post is absolutely a diary entry. I need to go back to writing in a diary so that I don't make all of my posts so zzzzzz. Not that my posts have ever really been terribly thrilling. Was that last sentence being unkind to myself? I don't even know anymore. I want to stop downplaying my talents and start giving myself more credit. I wish to stop apologizing for every last thing. Maybe I can even boast about things I do once in awhile without immediately following it up with a "just kidding" or some kind of self-deprecating comment. Maybe. Maybe.

I am reading Libra by DeLillo right now. He is one of my favorites -- and White Noise is definitely one of my favorite books of all time -- but I still find myself missing and craving Alexie. I've binged on Alexie recently, though! I need to give other authors a shot! Plus, there's only, like, one book left of Alexie's I haven't read -- I have to keep that book in a glass case and only shatter it when I am desperate for a good book. Because I know it will be good. Because Alexie is good. So so so good. (Also, Libra has been a bit of a challenge because I know almost nothing about Cuba. And here we all thought I was an expert on Cuban-American relations.)

Oh geez. I gotta go wash my hair. It is beginning to stink. It looks pretty fantastic, which I find to be the case with dirty hair, but the smell. The smell. And since I have this insatiable urge to be outside every single second of the day, I must go now. You know what they say: The sooner you wash your hair, the sooner you can wander around a park in Orem and scowl at all of the idiot kids on razor scooters.