random ramblings of Yours Truly.
What I wouldn’t give for a hammock right now.
I’m sitting on my front step, music just barely audible through my open front door. It’s been a busy, stressful day, and I just can’t summon the energy (physical or mental) to do just about anything. Not a walk, not a game, not a book or magazine.
I know I’ll regret my laziness later, when I feel like I’ve “wasted” the evening. For now, though, all I’m good for is taking in the breeze and the long shadows.
I used to read strangers’ blogs.
By “strangers,” I don’t mean internet celebrities that I’ve never met in person; or stars of stage, screen and television; or acquaintances that I know from a podcast or a convention. I mean complete strangers: normal (or not-so-normal) people whose publicized slices of life randomly caught my eye.
Blogs were still new then — often updated manually, and created by people who knew how to design websites. I would click through blogroll links and stumble across a blog that had a striking design, and if the content spoke to me, it went in my bookmarks.
Some of the more fascinating blogs were the intentionally vague ones. I used to wonder why they were so elusive, never giving any details about names or places or actual events. They’d only speak of emotions, interactions, sometimes touching on major life events like a graduation or a breakup. It seemed to me that these people were adding just enough detail that someone who knew them might know what they were talking about, while a complete stranger such as myself would have absolutely no clue.
This was a time when I was blogging in much greater detail than was probably called for. Since I knew no one knew about my blog except a handful of college friends, I was spilling my guts about my shitty job, my co-workers, my wedding plans, my grandmother’s losing battle with cancer. My blog wasn’t a collection of witty essays or a vague smearing of post-adolescent angst. It was an online version of the written journal I’d kept since I was seven, with most of the juicy details that entails.
(If I had been taking the time to write witty essays, rather than scribbling down notes at work and then writing rambling entries after dinner, perhaps I would have become one of these internet celebrity types. —Actually, no. I doubt that I would have, now that I think of it.)
I’ve maintained my openness over the years, while prudently holding back on some details — my brother-in-law, for instance, doesn’t like his photo to be posted on the internet, and I have a friend or two who are uncomfortable with being Google-able. I’ve also tried to hold back on the posts about work and about specific people, since those could so easily come back to bite me in the ass.
Sometimes, I long for the days of locked LiveJournal posts, or just not giving a fuck whether a long-lost friend or co-worker read what I had to say. The internet is a volatile yet potentially permanent place, though, and I’d rather be vague and mysterious (about some things) than get myself in trouble.
It’s been literally four years since I got new glasses. …Actually, it’s been longer than that: I was wearing my most recent pair of glasses at Aaron’s 30th birthday party, back in November 2004.
No wonder the new glasses are giving me issues.
I’ve been wearing wire frames for so long — since I forsook my contacts back in college — that I’d forgotten what it was like to have solid plastic frames sitting on my nose, rather than just tiny nosepads. My run yesterday did not go well partially because of this. I will apparently need to invest in a sports band for my glasses (and not just for ziplining in Mexico on vacation).
Perhaps since these glasses have a wider field of view than my last pair, I’m having trouble adjusting my eyes/brain to the new input. When I look off-axis at someone or something, or when I turn my head too fast, I get slightly nauseous and headachy, like I’m trying to read in a moving car. I’m really hoping this goes away as I acclimate to the new glasses. I also hope that acclimating to the new glasses doesn’t throw me off when I wear my new prescription sunglasses (which I tried on first, and which suited me just fine right out of the gate).
I do like the added contrast they add to my face overall, and I feel like they do the desired job of slimming my face and balancing out my features. I know that these might not last as long as my classic wire-frames did, stylistically speaking, and that I’ll very likely look at photos of myself in ten years and wonder why I opted to go so trendy. It happens with every decade, though — just look at my ’90s glasses. Yikes.
This new age of technology is something else. My husband and I just got iPhones a little over a year ago, and these tools have really changed how we interact with our friends and acquaintances. If Aaron’s at the store, I can text him and ask if he put milk on the list. I can play Words With Friends (basically, Scrabble) with my best friend, two and a half hours away. I can check Facebook from my couch at home or my desk at work (always during breaks, of course).
Later this afternoon, we’re meeting friends for lunch. They made an impromptu trip up from Columbus, and we arranged today’s rendezvous last night via Twitter and phone.
Ain’t technology grand?
Just a lack of oomph.
I have tons and tons of ideas for blog posts; unfortunately, most of them actually require thought and composition and at least a quick edit before being sent off into the world. When I come home from work in the evening, I don’t generally have that kind of oomph. I have enough oomph to see Aaron off to work, feed the cat, feed myself, and do some singular task. I have to choose wisely what that task is, though: I can clean house, or blog, or play a video game, but I can’t do all three. It’s a challenge fitting exercise into that narrow window of energy, too, but I’ve been trying.
So, it’s all about priorities and consequences. Turn on the TV, watch the news, and then get sucked into playing Xbox 360; or focus on my meal (and likely eat less because of it), turn on some music, and do what needs to get done.
And have the computer off by 10pm.
I wish I didn’t have to use my most productive waking hours working for The Man.