13 Jan 2011

January 13, 2011

I don’t have much time. There’s never time anymore. I’m always late, always rushing, always thinking of what I could be doing instead of whatever thing I happen to be doing. It’s a terrible way to live, it really is.

We’re working on a project at work that I’m excited about. It’s something I believe in — creatively, philosophically. And I keep thinking about how much better the work becomes when you believe in what you’re doing. You stop worrying about pleasing anyone; you’re just trying to please yourself, which is when the best stuff happens.

I went to a different Starbucks this morning, one that has comfy chairs that face out the windows, so I could have watched the sunrise while I worked. I ended up getting so focused that when I looked up, I’d missed it.

I said I wasn’t going to edit that last post, but that wasn’t entirely true. I went back through it twice making changes. I worry about what people think of me.

I found out a guy I knew in highschool died. I thought he was a lot younger than me, but it turns out he wasn’t. Just a few months, actually. We could have been friends. I laid awake thinking about him the other night. Not just him, but mostly him, and what it meant to be gone, and what it meant to believe in heaven. I must have laid awake for an hour. There was a street light on outside; I could see it through a gap in our blinds. I never realized how bright the room is in the middle of the night.


I’m meeting my brother for coffee now, and I’m already running late.

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