But maybe talking about so many thoughts is just a random weave of nonsense. Let me know who's reading this shit. People tell me they are. I don't know that I make it very easy to follow or care about. I try to be interesting, but I sure don't go out of my way. I don't want to ask everyone to comment and tell me who you are. But I'm curious, so if you want to... you can comment and let me know who you are.
My thoughts definitely seem to keep me from getting bored any more. I can't remember the last time I was really bored. For a guy who does a whole lot of sitting and staring off into space, that's pretty good. I call it 'meditating.' Maybe it is, maybe it's not - but who's going to tell a guy he's meditating wrong?
I was really excited to see a fox a few nights ago. It walked past my open van doors. I've seen foxes, and there seem to be more in the area - but this was special because it was only a few feet in front of me, and had no clue I was there. I was very impressed with myself for being silent and still long enough for that to occur. I was proud that the fox didn't see me. I've had a cat visit my van too. And one morning a little bird flew in. And while I'm listing dinner guests, I had a huge scary bee that sounded like an airplane. That was the same morning as the bird. Busy day.
7:21pm, I'm hung over still and my stomach feels wobbly. My chest feels something akin to what I [probably falsely] believe to be a symptom of anxiety. I'm txting Rachel back. My laptop is on my lap.
I kept a personal journal as a kid, and updated it constantly. Almost hourly updates sometimes. It was on again off again, but I still have journals and journals and journals with tons of shit I can barely look back at. Crazy how I used to see everything for exactly how it is when I was still a tiny kid, but I'm still putting it all together to see where I fit in right now. Lifetime of thinking. It's all about perspective. That's becoming my favorite word. I was a seriously white nerdy little weirdo. I'm glad I've learned how to hide that now. Right?
I love my van, and love living in a van. So much. Even if it's looking dangerously similar to bumming around at my parents house at age 25. Fuck it. It's not only the practical and sustainable aspect that I like so much - its that it feels so right and natural. And I feel blessed and lucky that I'm not looking to own a big house. If you don't aspire to be a house-haver, you've just saved yourself a big headache. Wonder how I'll feel about that in the future.
These are good times. I really feel that way. I'm completely failing at finding a way to describe this in a meaningful way. I'm fresh out of analogies. It's like when there's a tree... and .... a frog... and .. FUCK IT. I'm smiling, baby.