A few years ago I was pleasantly surprised to meet someone that I really liked. He was fascinating, had a similar wavelength in food and fitness, could appreciate cross country road trips in an RV as much as a trip to Patagonia, was keenly observant, and had a sly sense of humor. He culled the best versions of songs across my favorite genres (and genres I didn’t even care for), and we could chat for hours about what happened in our day, philosophy, or nonsense like the proper way of eating a soup dumpling. He understood me. Getting to know him was like entering a universe where I was easily myself, and more. I was able to unfurl the inner facets that never found a place where they could play, simply because the landscape did not exist until I met him. Things ended several months later, and I’ve moved on since. Read More
I want a dog.
The ticking clock is the only sound in the house. It’s cold. I put on some socks. The gingko trees are turning gold outside, and this makes me happy. Autumn makes me very happy.
Merely looking at something almost never causes change. Tourism is fun, but rarely transformative.
If it was easy, you would have already achieved the change you seek.
Change comes from new habits, from acting as if, from experiencing the inevitable discomfort of becoming.
Lately I’ve been catching up on My Mad Fat Diary and The Mindy Project. Aside from the coming-of-age entertainment (for the former) (and I suppose the latter as well, because even people in their thirties are still coming of age in many ways), and the banter that I look forward to at the end of each day, the two shows offer more than the laughter I hoped they would. This much shows aren’t needed to distract me from my post grad school interview nerves, but I can almost never resist a peek into the lives and minds of interesting characters.
Be warned: Spoiler alert.