Take a Breath

This is really strange. I find myself back home from work all alone. No one contacted me. I didn’t contact anyone. I’m just here sitting in my living room typing this out. I don’t know what to type about, but I know I should write about something. What will that something be?

Back in high school—I think when I was a junior—our English teach made us journal for the first ten minutes of class. It didn’t matter what we wrote about, we were just told to write out a stream of thought for as fast as we can. We counted the words when we were done. We didn’t have to make any sense. I remember that was when my handwriting started to fail me. There was this other kid in class that tried to beat me in the number of words written. Most days I would win, but there would be a few days here and there I would lose. So that said, I’m going to type out a stream of thought for the next ten minutes.

This is the first afternoon in awhile—maybe like three months awhile—where I can finally claim some me time. It’s been a pretty high pace three months between finding and moving into a new place and with my girlfriend coming back from Spain1. I don’t believe there was a single weekend where I could just relax and do nothing. I don’t even think there has been a single week day where I could relax and do mostly nothing. It’s been occupied all the time with going out, working out, or getting work done. It’s fine to be busy most of the time, I guess. But I know burn out is coming (if it hasn’t already).

So it’s a good thing that I get to relax right now at this very point in time, right? Well, I guess so. If it was a Monday or a Wednesday that would be fine. But it’s a Friday night! I should be out doing things with people, right? Where is everyone? What’s everyone doing? Where’s everyone?!

Oh wait, one of my roommates just came back. I think I just lost three minutes of writing. It’s okay. He was showing me all this carbon fiber accessories that he had to get for his bike. I think my moment of taking a breath is coming to an end. We’re heading out to help one of our friends. She’s moving from Irvine to…. I forget where. (It’s probably best I don’t mention where anyway.) If all goes well, we’ll head over to Clearman’s North Woods for steak. (It’s been years since I had that.)

Times up, maybe my next entry will be more meaningful. Who knows. (I really should just start writing… writing about anything, again.)

  1. “My girlfriend”—I’ll never get used to saying that []