Lazy blog

Eager to get outside into the sunlight and to supper, so I'll post a quote. My friend Em shared this.

“There's a dark side to each and every human soul. We wish we were Obi-Wan Kenobi, and for the most part we are, but there's a little Darth Vader in all of us. Thing is, this ain't no either/or proposition. We're talking about dialectics, the good and the bad merging into us. You can run but you can't hide. My experience? Face the darkness, stare it down. Own it. As brother Nietzsche said, being human is a complicated gig. Give that old dark night of the soul a hug!”   -- Chris in the Morning, "Northern Exposure"

Um, yeah, so...

Weird to have "started a blog" only to discover I've nothing to say. Huh.

But then I've always had a weird relationship with journals. Who's my audience? Future me and...posterity?

Really loved writing for my sophomore HS English teacher, Mrs. Gowlett. She genuinely seemed to love reading what we wrote.

Years ago, digging through journals and high school keepsakes, I was mortified to read my scandalized journal review of the HS production of "Grease," which -- the review opens by disclosing -- I didn't see. "Tickets were sold out. But I know the story. It's about a girl who TURNS HERSELF INTO A FLOOZY!" Gads.

Here's hoping that upright, uptight twit has flown -- for good. There are times I wonder.

Some nights it's good to go back -- not quite so far in time -- to pick at the scars and look at the trail of breadcrumbs. For every tune-June-moon in a poem or laughably anguished journal entry, there's a moment of pluck, a turn of phrase, something to like about that person who was me before me.

It's like finding a penciled note in a library book. What was she thinking? Why did she write that? Do I agree with that? Johnny. Well, like, who's Johnny? There was one guy named Johnny, but he was...

Time machine. A journal's like a time machine. Except a time machine that takes you back to July 23, 1779. Just an ordinary summer day, nothing to see here, move along. I like the internet for that quality too. An ordinary-day time machine. It marks the snapshot moment in time, speaks a truth, shoves in a bookmark and moves on.

Wild nights, wild nights were I with thee...

Enjoying the comfortable companionship of my husband at The 'Bou tonight. That's Caribou Coffee. I am expressly forbidden from calling it this. Ditto, "The Old Double C." So, in the vernacular of our life, it is "the coffee shop." 

We meet here once or twice or more a week. I get off the train here and he drives over and our evening's adventure begins. 

An action-packed Friday tonight, each of us with a computer and a hot drink. I alternate between cursing Blogger and cheering to figure something out. He's studying a new survey for work. ("Have you paid for any catering services in the last month? Party supplies? Funeral arrangements?")

I love my life.

Willkommen. Bienvenue. Welcome.

Hope you enjoy my little adventure!