Of Late

Even if I was 100 percent efficient, I don't think I'd be able to do all the things I imagine I want to do. So I usually just end up not doing anything.

Lately, life has been a mix of completely new and still engrained. From Monday to Thursday I go to work. Sometimes I run with a friend or two in the morning. Sometimes I eat with someone during lunch. Sometimes I stay at the office until 7, or 8, or 10 once. Sometimes I work on Friday for a few hours. I almost always get groceries on the way home Monday and Thursday nights. This past Friday our layout person and I finally wrapped up our January issue. I'm only a month and a half behind schedule. It was a great feeling, and terrible.

Friday to Sunday I go back to weekend Chris. He imagines reading and taking walks and doing crafts and cleaning up. He usually doesn't get anything accomplished, really. He plays on his phone Friday night, but at least starts listening to Christian music. But he'll also watch YouTube videos of celebrities on Jimmy Fallon or Conan. I suppose he feels guilty, but mostly just figures he's "apathetic." Or whatever it is when one doesn't feel much about anything. He's done this "Sabbath" thing for a long time. He tries to go to first service at the university church and pay his tithe and offering once a month. He started taking notes of the sermons a few weeks ago. It helps him to think more, but he still doesn't do anything as a result. He intends to cook a nice meal for lunch, but sometimes just has the good ol' double sandwich and chips. Afternoon is often a repeat of Friday night, sometimes a hike with people instead if he's ambitious, or a visit to his favorite 7-tree Redwood Grove at Caroline Park to sit and read, or try and figure out his feelings. Then it's usually popcorn and a movie, or just more celebrity videos. Maybe some humor blogs. Maybe an article. Sunday is typically just more waste. He might get laundry done. Maybe clean some part of the house. Maybe go for a run. Probably feel bad about not calling his great aunt. Or anyone else, for that matter. Maybe wonder what the housemates think of him. Maybe spend a moment imagining living in his own cabin in Running Springs. Probably at some point feeling his back start to ache a bit.

Sometimes I still have thoughts flicker through my mind. I might wonder how I'll ever meet a girl, or anyone new around here, really. I might consider for an inhale what I aspire to be. I might, for the exhale, think about my age. I'll wish I wrote in my journal, or used my computer for other than the Internet, or took pictures with my real camera just for fun. I'll think about my sitting, and think I ought to do some workouts, maybe some crossfit, or at least some pushups. I might look at my shelves in the pantry and wish I didn't have to prepare food. I might wonder if I could go to the theater or a restaurant alone. I might consider reading, but then remember the book I'm in isn't that exciting, and plus, Instagram and Twitter need checked again. I might want to listen to some of the cool music I've heard the past four days, but then not be able to think of a single group.

I cleaned my room today. It's still cluttered, but neatly. Kind of like me, I suppose. I combed my hair and vacuumed the floor. I cleaned the shelves and windowsill. I moved some things to underneath my cot, which should've been done months ago. I put my sweaters on the shelf that's been empty forever. I started an episode of How I Met Your Mother and wasn't feeling it at all. Then I remembered Brooklyn Nine-Nine and enjoyed a couple of those. I watched some Tavi Gevinson and Emma Watson interviews and I wished I could think like Tavi. I listened to a lot of Daughter. She is the best. I looked at the thought of journaling in my head, but didn't and won't. I finally opened this page and am doing this instead. Sometimes I wish I had a perfect cat.

And that's pretty much me lately.