The story I tell everyone about being in tune with the universe goes like this:

In college, there was this great table in the dining hall. It was a booth, the only booth in the whole hall, in this little recessed area with stained glass windows on three sides extending up to the something like 40ft tall ceilings. It was the best. You could fit 8 people at it, and it was my favorite place to sit.

Senior year, fall came around and for a good 2 months, every time I came to a meal the booth was open. It was a lucky streak, and it made me feel like someone had sprinkled me with fairy dust or something… Maybe the booth was tapped and it was always open because they were investigating me and my friends, but I felt like I was at one with the universe. I was doing something right, like when you bowl a bunch of strikes in a row, and I didn’t question it because I didn’t want to ruin it somehow.

Sometimes this happens. You are in the right place at the right time and all the pieces just fall into place and you feel like you must be cautious about everything because if you breathe too hard it might disrupt the flow.

My job is ending soon and lately I’ve been on the brink of worrying about what will happen next. Not really worrying for more than a minute or two, but very aware that there is room for catastrophe if things don’t go my way. But today I’m feeling good, because it seems like the universe has my back.

Exhibit A: When I got to the bus stop, it told me the bus was coming in 8 minutes, which gave me some time to go get lunch to take with me!

Exhibit B: After I got my sandwich, I noticed a valid transfer sticking out from the frame of the poster in the bus shelter, almost like someone had left it just for me. Saved $2!

Exhibit C: After reading my book all the way there are not wanting to put it down, my workday got reconfigured and I didn’t have to be where I was and turned back to go home!

Exhibit D: When I got to the bus stop to go home, someone passed by and gave me ANOTHER valid transfer for my return trip.

Exhibit E: After reading my really good book on the bus for 2 hours, I got home and had an email from a friend offering me free tix for me and a guest to the entire Andy Warhol Retrospective this weekend at the Frameline Film Festival.

Exhibit F: Got notified about a meeting Friday for an additional assistantship for one day a week, ongoing. My temp job with the Census will be ending soon, and I was wondering about work in combination with my upcoming move.

Exhibit G + H: I needed some new clothes and kitchen stuff for our future place.. and one of my BFFs is moving and offered me all the kitchen stuff she doesn’t need!

Now all I need is an awesome new place to live, and a little more work. Need an assistant? Some graphic design? Some advice on bringing your business online? Social Media? Networking? Want to buy a painting?

T always says the universe provides, you just got to decide on something and ask for it. Now that we’re staying in San Francisco for a while, I can feel the universe tuning into what I’m asking for and trying to get it to me.

It’s nice to be in a place of less struggle, more flow. Hustle and Flow, people! Hustle and flow.

I am sitting in bed and eating ice cream that makes me teeth hurt. Last night I saw Charlene Yi perform. She’s a young comic/musician/performer who wrote Paper Heart, a sweet fictional documentary about whether love exists. She dropped out of school and lived in her car to get to LA and follow her dream. Her work is funny and honest and seems to come from her gooey chocolatey center.

Lately I’ve been thinking about what it is I want to do. A lot of the time I think about what I don’t want to do, or what’s stopping me from doing what I want, or how I can’t do anything and have no talent or passion, or how the whole world is fucked up and I just want to run away and live in a cave and eat berries like the guy in the book Hatchet I read when I was 10.

Some people make Bucket Lists of things they want to do before they die. Some people have lofty goals and ambitions that motivates them to do things like go to Law School, or climb a ladder of business hierarchy, or work 12 hours a day making food for people for very little money.

I don’t know what it is I want to do. When I was a kid I had these vague ideas of travel and adventure, being a poor hobo and relying on the kindness of strangers to get me where I need to be, and letting life carry me through good times in bad.

I haven’t gone for this lifestyle because it’s full of worried relatives and sketchy situations and being homeless and not getting what I need to eat, poop, and sleep safely. It’s not ambitious enough in the “I’m gonna be somebody” kind of sense, and there is no end goal except for exploring and seeing what is out there for me to see. I don’t know when a trip like this will end, or what I should do when I’m done. I always thought something would just happen.

The other thing, is money. I don’t want to have to rely on people for money, but I don’t want to work 40 hours a week for a paycheck, either. I wish I didn’t have to have money to live. Right now I’ve been working a lot at a temporary job where I get paid $23.50 an hour, but I’m always disappointed. I calculate pay during work and then am horrified when $200 gets deducted each week for taxes. When I didn’t have a job a month ago, I was always worried, but it seemed like I went out to eat a lot more, made more art, read more books, and wasn’t so angry. I seem to have a very short fuse and money lights it all the time.

The thing about this vague traveling trip I keep/kept thinking about what this: I don’t have any other plans. I seriously don’t think I ever imagined myself as old as I am now, and my plans were never definite enough to seem like something I should actually make a plan to do.

So I’m trying to make a list of things that I would like to do. People always say we never make time to just do the things that mean so much to us because we’re too busy with jobs and kids and things. Well, my job is temporary, and I’m not very fond of money and I don’t want kids until I’m done fooling around, so I thought I might as well make a list of things that I want to have happen at some point in my life and then just go from there. I hope I can think of something. I hope they aren’t impossible.

1. Have a studio that is all mine.

I want a place to go with big windows and tall ceilings that is my place. I want to be able to go there and be alone and work or dance or sing or record things or draw or paint of make prints. I want a big counter with a sink and an electric kettle and a hot plate and a refrigerator and I want to be the only one with a key. I like company, but this is a place I can go if I want to be completely alone. I work best when I’m completely alone and I never quite feel like that. Sometimes I would like a whole week of just being alone so I could get into it and get the voices out of my head. I want time to do whatever I want and I want to take all the pressure off of myself so that I don’t have to worry about how what I will do will impress people or how it will effect my future. And I don’t want this to be in a place where I am scared of getting shot walking out of my building, but I don’t want this place to be in the middle of nowhere either.

2. I want to work part time at a mindless job.

When I was in Seattle I worked at this frame shop/gift shop. I worked from 11-5pm four days a week, I got foodstamps, my work was two blocks away, and mostly I put price tags on things, made stuff pretty, and kept it all dust-free. It left me a lot of brain space to thing about things like what I was going to do or make outside of it. Sometimes I wish I had never left Seattle. The weather was bad, but that’s all I can think of that was bad. My best friend and I had our own radio show, I lived in an awesome house, I met really cool people who were doing amazing things, and I got to go see live music and eat for practically nothing all the time. I couldn’t afford cheese or meat or wine, but I was really healthy and cooked all my meals from scratch and spent like $100 on groceries for two people every month. I want to live somewhere where that’s possible. I’m tired of being cramped into one room. But I can’t think of anywhere I want to move either, not even Seattle. I like the sun too much.

3. I want summer in the country.

Freshwater creeks to live in, gardening to do, bonfires, learning to play an instrument. I want to do all these things. I was thinking about the ukulele or maybe making stuff electronically. But I want to make songs and sing them at night on the back porch after a day of baking chocolate cake and swimming and drinking minted lemonade.

So those are three things for now. Maybe I’ll think of some other things later. I wonder if the place in my head that I want to exist is real or if it’s just the amalgam of everything I like about all the places I’ve been so far. Either way, I feel compelled to travel until I find it.

I’ve been trying to make friends lately, but I don’t know how. I don’t think I’m doing this social media thing right, and I’m not sure how to pick up friends at bars. Or if that even happens. I’ve been posting ads on craigslist, but it always seems like a dead end for some reason. I think it might have to do with the fact that I’m not looking to sleep with anyone, and the virtual world and reality are so far removed from each other in my brain that I forget people on the internet are actually real. And I’ve been practicing being shy for so long that thinking about talking to people makes me want to get in my bed and watch movies for hours instead.

I did make a friend last week though. I was in training for the Census and we bonded over how we would rather be sipping cocktails than waiting for 50 people to get fingerprinted at the alarming rate of 1 every 15 minutes. We went bowling on Sunday. $20 for unlimited pizza and three hours of bowling (OMG bowling is so expensive and that didn’t even include all the booze). It was super fun.

*sidenote: Do you ever just hate someone automatically? Hate at first sight? Not that I really harbor lots of hatred, maybe irritation is a better word, but sometimes the way people talk and move their hands is just so aggravating that it makes me want to pull my teeth out with pliers. Sometimes I’m in a cafe writing with my headphones on but I’m secretly HATING YOU and everything you say and stand for. Get a chin, chicken neck.

Ahem. If you are going to be my new friend, this is what I would do to take you out and show you a good time.

1. Go to Ocean Beach and build a fire in their big Sea Star fire pits.

I’m currently working as the assistant for the artist who made these. Maybe you will be impressed by this. My boo, T, will help us build I gigantic fire and we can cook things over it on sticks and make s’mores and likely there would be a couple bottles of something and we could sit and sip and talk about all the things that are close to our heart and maybe make some music if we were so inclined until the fire died and it got cold and we started wondering how we were going to get home again and omg the train stop is so far away we’ll never make it let’s just sleep on the beach.

That happened to me once, but not exactly. We arrived at this beach park 5 minutes before it closed and got our car locked into the parking lot. We build a big smokey fire from some wet wood we found and stayed up all night shivering and watching the trains go by. We eventually ended up in the car which is where the park guy found us at 6am. It was awesome, like we were stranded on some cold island in the northwest and would sooner or later have to resort to cannibalism, or trapping squirrels, and build shelters out of stuff that washes up on the shore.

2. 50 cent Beer night at Bar on Church

We are broke artists, so we live a romantic trashy existence. On Saturday afternoon, we are going drinking at the place that most closely resembles a frat party at a gay club. We will scoff at the beer pong players, but would secretly play if they were friendly and asked us to. There are available poles and ropes hanging from the ceiling in case you had the hankering for suggestive gyrating, but I must warn you that if you are a girl you will be almost immediately be thought of as a slutty attention whore. The way to avoid this is to wait until you are pretty tipsy and then do it to get people to dance to this song because OMG IT IS SO GOOD!!! Extra points if you are hot and fun and get people to dance. If you are a cute gay guy, go forth with no reservations, but if you run off to have sex somewhere and ditch us, that is lame.

3. Monday Night Movie at Roxie Cinema

I love to watch movies, especially if they’re arty and independent and funny or heartbreaking or pretty and make me feel hip and smart. Enter Roxie Cinema. They always have something offbeat or interesting playing, so it doesn’t even really matter what’s playing. Especially because on Mondays the movies are $5 (cash pls). Before the movie, we can go get pupusas down the street at Panchitas #2 where you can have a feast for 2 for like, $12, I kid you not. This is a fun thing to do esp. when we’re just getting to know each other because there’s a little conversation time mixed with silent movie time that will give us something to talk about if we don’t really know what to say otherwise.

4. An Afternoon on Hippie Hill

On sunny days in the spring, there’s no better place to be than on Hippie Hill. All kinds of people come out. There are tons of hippies and weirdos and freaks to talk to that make great stories. Last time I was there, I watched this guy dressed in all black going crazy on this big empty trash can. He was covered in body armor and training himself to kill people. He came over and said his name was Ash and started throwing knives into the grass. He was awesome, and I feel sorry for any authority figure that runs into him when he’s in a bad mood. His pipe was given to him by an native american who made it out of the horn of an elk he shot with a bow and arrow.

Anyway, I’d pack a picnic with some food to spare, bring a little cash for homemade baked goodness we will inevitably be invited to try, and maybe even something to bang on. There we can spend all afternoon people watching and talking to whoever rolls up. We will share some food, lay in the sun, read, dance at the drum circle, hula hoop and generally chill out until we are so chill we are ready to find a rainbow gathering or go live in a van down by the river with all our new friends.

5. Pho

At this point in hanging out, it is likely that you will have encountered a hangover. Never fear! I would not leave you to somehow vanquish Yesterday’s Cheap Beer Dragon alone. I have found that the best way to fully and quickly cure something like this is through a big bowl of goodness in your mouth. Pho is like a day at the spa. It’s like a sauna, but better because it won’t make you want to throw up when you’re hungover. Delicious broth. Meat or veggies if you want. Noodles. Bean sprouts. Add in some hot sauce and I swear your pain will be gone and you’ll feel so much better.

Maybe after Pho we can go home and make something awesome or think of cool posters to hang all over the neighborhood or work on some sticker tags to slap on newpaper boxes and fire hydrants.

So now that you’re all impressed at how much fun I can be, and are wishing you could be my friend and hang out all the time, comment! I have no idea who reads this thing, but I know someone does because I HAVE VISITORS. Tell me if you’d like to hang out, or what you’d rather do that’s more fun. Or even better, tell me what you’re ideas are for fun things to do and give me some good ideas for fun cheap things to do. Or just say hi! You can also include a link to your blog if you want to be blog buds.

OH YEAH THAT’S RIGHT! HOLLA BACK!

I’m planning an awesome giveaway that will be a secret surprise care package full of such amazing wondrous items it will satisfy the void in your heart and fulfill your life completely. Get on my good side now and maybe you will be the winner!!

My boo and I went out last night. We drove through dark residential neighborhoods, looking into the lit windows of people’s houses. We drank tall boys on the sidewalk, listening to hipsters name drop and out-cool each other. We drank coffee at our favorite cafe, listening to a lady sing and a man strum his guitar. We listened to Journey in the car and when we got home we watched a movie about an epidemic wiping out 90% of the population of Earth.

I love my boo and I love the apocalypse.

A few months before I met him I was writing a column for  Sustainable Style. I had been watching all these documentaries about peak oil and energy and 2012 Mayan Calendar end of times junk. Sometimes I like to fantasize about the apocalypse. Usually I skip the bad stuff and end up somewhere safe with everyone I love. We build shanties and cabins and grow gardens and live this amazing communal-hippie anarchist-back-to-the-land existence where it’s always spring and everything is wonderful. When I think about all this I look forward to is as a time where I will be released from the confines of having to actually work for money and instead I can just build and grow things and do that whole mutual aid thing, which I’m totally into.

Then I met my boo, T. When he asked me out I invited him to this potluck series I was doing. Every month I would find 6 strangers and invite them to a potluck at my house. I’d sit in the kitchen, serve their courses one by one, and record the conversation they had. So our first date was really me listening to him relate to 5 other complete strangers about life, existence, humanity, philosophy, and experience. At this point, T was a stranger to me. He worked across the street from my shop, and whenever I saw him I got totally drunk by his charisma. Not that he really did anything special, but to me being in his presence was like being next to a pop star I was really into. Like Billy Corgan when I was 13.

In the kitchen, I heard him talk about jumping out of planes, traveling the world, talking to shamans. He whistled the sound of a hawk. He spoke of seeing visions while sick with ameobic dysentary. He talked about the philosophy of the Tao and traded lessons he’s learned about society and human nature with those around the table. It wasn’t just him, everyone at the table had their own piece to add to this night. At the end of the evening a pipe was brought out, all the wine was drunk, and people sat on the stoop smoking and literally singing with each other. It was the best potluck of the summer.

He stood out. We moved in together after a month. It was magic. He would bring me wild flowers and we would sit on the porch for hours looking at the stars and talking about the dragon that appeared every night in the bush across the street, under the streetlamp. He told me about all the different lives he has had, all the things he’s learned and seen and suffered. He even helped me build a shanty in the backyard one Sunday, and we spent the summer living in the backyard, watching movies, eating, sleeping, listening to music. When we didn’t have a barbecue, he made one using a pitchfork, a few bricks, and the rack from the oven. When we got locked into a park all night, he built a big fire and we spent the night talking and watching the trains go by. And when it came time to move, he spent the day cleaning the gutters, washing all the windows, and loaded the truck down the windy staircase all by himself.

And in the back of my mind, I knew. He was the person I wanted with me when the shit hit the fan.

Right now, we live in the city, struggling to keep a roof over our heads and food in our mouths. We spend days in front of our computers, learning, stressing, dealing with clients, and reading. But I dream of the day when the population is wiped out and we are stuck on our own, surviving on what we can do with our two hands.We will be the ones to build a safe haven for those we love. We’ll be really buff from chopping wood and gathering wildflowers and swimming in creeks. We will have an amazing hand built house, delicious hand-grown and gathered food, and all our friends will finally be in bucolic harmony.

But even if that day never comes when the apocalypse strikes, there is still the catastrophe of everyday to manage. And it’s so nice to know that no matter how little or big it is, he is always there, making it a little easier.

Since moving to the city, I’ve been working on cultivating possibilities. I feel like the more seeds I plant, the more chances stuff will happen. In the last couple weeks I have joined a ton of event mailing lists, found tons of calendars with things to do, researched the cheapest happy hours in the city, and thought of a ton of ways (read: art projects) to make new friends in this place. I might get a job with the census, I’m working on buttering up this bakery I really want to work at, I’ve applied to volunteer at the botanical gardens, and figured out when the collective bookstore has their monthly meetings to introduce new volunteers. I’ve even figured out what permits to get to become a street artist and started experimenting with making things to sell out of my supply stash. I also found a baking and pastry program at the community college that’s free. Though my next few months are still veiled in mystery, it’s nice to think about all the things that could happen as a result of all the seeds I’m planting. I hope something sprouts.

In addition to the now future, I’ve also been thinking about the future down the road. I try to remember what I wanted to be when I grew up. I wanted to be a talent agent, a torch singer, an artist. I wanted to travel around the country, sit in the sun, find swimming holes, make forts, and live like an indian. Nothing has changed much. I envision myself learning to play the ukelele and sing on the street corner for passersby. Sometimes when things get tough I imagine just running away, walking out of town and just trying to keep going and see what happens. I went to a show for the first time in a long while on Friday, and listening to the music reminded me of how much pleasure music-making gives me. I thought about being at house shows in Seattle, and letting visions of art and sculpture float through my head inspired by the sounds going on around me. I want to sing loud, without fear, my own words with a strong voice.

Sometimes I dream of moving to the country, into a big wooden house in a meadow not far from the forest. I’d plant a garden, learn how to keep goats, make cheese, bake bread, build a greenhouse, and find somewhere good to go swimming in fresh water. At night we’d light a fire outside and sing and play music and look at the stars and hear the crickets. I would cook, make art, read and write. I’d invite people over to make things, eat, drink, dance, and make music. I’d take long walks and bring home wild flowers. I’d have special places to go for picnics, make forts, and hang birdhouses in the forest.

I am trying to get there. Guide my life in the direction that will lead me to this place, this time. Sometime the path seems invisible, blocked by lack of money and obstacles in my way. Sometimes I feel like I have to be able to trick society in some way to get this. Sometimes I just want to run away because that’s the only way I will get to where I want to be. Sometimes I feel like I need to sacrifice something to get to this place, but I’m not sure what it is.

Sometimes I wish there was a set, known path I was on. Where I could just follow the directions and go along the conveyor belt, not having to thing about how I spend each day, each hour. Just doing what they tell me and not having to think about it outside the hours of 9-5pm, and be able to have money to pay my bills and buy my groceries and go out and have a good time.

So I’m figuring out how to ignore the obstacles. How to think of what I want to do and just do it. How to stop waiting around for the right time or the right resources and just go for it. Get some failures under my belt. Learn. Be active. Stop feeling anxious or scared. Dance, sing, be good to those people around me. And maybe one day I’ll look up and realize that I’m already on the right path.

Delicious fare rustled up by volunteer cook-geniuses

I would say that for at least 90% of my life, I have been too busy. I’ve gotten by on too little sleep by slamming redbull before french class. I’ve forgotten to show up for that over there because I was too busy doing this and that and this over here. I’ve been hounded by deadlines and up all night and rushing here and there with millions of to do lists falling out of my bag. People to see, projects to execute, i’s to dot and t’s to cross. Happy, because I was doing so many things that I enjoyed, but also stressed out, sleep deprived, running on empty, and leaving little things undone.

Recently, however, I’ve been bored. Bored and broke and with few friends. Living in the suburbs, it was hard to get out. Transportation is expensive, so is toll, food, drinks, movies, and most everything else you could do for fun times. It led to many a night eating beans and rice and watching movies on the internet, feeling unmotivated and depressed because there is no pulse to life when you’re unemployed and have no regular schedule. There are no constant places to be, things to do, people to see, stories to tell, parties to plan, entertaining to be done.

I do better when I’m not bored. When there are things to do, communities to be a part of, projects to work on, goals to aspire to. Since the move to the city, I’m still broke. There’s not a ton to do when the world is a big puddle outside, but I can feel the boredom seeping away, slowly. Even surfing online is more active. There’s the searching and planning for things to do. Cheap yoga classes to find, cheap shows, happy hours, discount movies, art openings, and bus tours.

This weekend, after we had recovered from moving in the worst storm of the year and the subsequent illness it bestowed on us, we finally got out. On Saturday we volunteered at All Access Cafe, an all volunteer-run donation based community brunch. I bussed tables and T washed dishes while mountains of delicious vegan food poured out of the kitchen. Bands played, people danced and did flips on the dance floor, tea and mimosas were served and there were big grins all around. This is what I’m talking about! I always wanted to start a secret cafe, ever since I read about one in Doris zine . It would be a place only known by word of mouth. There would be good food and good company for cheap. Sometimes live music, sometimes art workshops, sometimes dance or yoga classes on the floor. Board games, space helmet parades, good tea and bread and cookies.Everyone would feel welcome there, and everyone would be welcome. There would be no hip-hierarchy. You wouldn’t have to spend money to come and hang out. It would be like a clubhouse for whoever wanted to come. A community for people who wanted a real community, instead of feeling the isolation of living in a society that’s entirely based on money, having it and getting it.

After brunch, Tim and I walked home, the cafe still buzzing in our over-stimulated heads. We walked home to our new place, watching all the people filling the streets. We smelled all the smells, looked in shop windows. Later we went to a free event at Grace Cathedral, where hipsters were dancing to DJs in the huge gothic building. We walked through the night lights. There were people everywhere, and it made me think that this was what I was missing. All kinds of people all around me.

The cafe was a great taste of something I really need to find for myself. I can’t wait to gather up friends, projects, community, food, and music until I’m busy again, running around without a moment to catch my breath. It’s seeping in slowly, but surely, like rain that gives the park grass that satisfying squish. I can’t wait.

After a long while having the craziness, and being surrounded by the crazy most of the time, I’ve been spending the last few weeks trying to live without it. This has been particularly good for my psyche, as well as those of the people around me. I no longer cry everyday over anything from commercials to my boyfriends lack of taste in fine cuisine.  I’m not as angry, not as argumentative, not as touchy, and not as self conscious. I don’t fight as often, I am genuinely happier than I have been in a long time.

I’m not exactly sure what happened to cause this change. In June boyfriend and I housesat the house of a family friend while he and his son went on vacation. They live far away, in a town I’d never been to before. There was nothing to do. And it was hot. My plate was rather lacking in the work department, and for the first few days all I could do was feel guilty and upset about all the things I wasn’t accomplishing.

We went for long hikes, we watched movies, I painted any scrap of old wood I could find. We cooked the food we wanted when we wanted it. We went to bed when we were tired. We woke up when we awakened naturally.

After the first week, I was really frustrated with my emotions. It was exhausting to have swing so precariously between sadness, guilt, anger, frustration, and hurt. I wanted to be rid of all of these things that were weighing me down and stealing all my time and energy.

The only thing that really sticks in my mind as far as a turningpoint, is when I started thinking to myself, talking to myself.

You aren’t going to be thinking these things anymore. You are just going to let them pass you by. All of these angry, emotional thoughts will not be listened to. When they come, you will know just to let them pass by. When you start to feel bad, relax, breathe, do something nice for yourself.
That week I spent a lot of time cleaning myself, getting clothes that fit (since the craziness of this past year has made me outgrow some of my clothes), and trying to let myself do whatever I wanted without the heavy burden of the future worrying me and weighing me down.

Since that week, it has been slowly getting easier to be more rational when I respond to things everyday. I’m learning to recognize what variables can make me happy, or irritated, and try to implement them in better ways.

It’s also easier to recognize what changes to my non-existent routine would be good for me, namely, having one at all. It’s amazing to think that life could be a lot better than it has been. I’m eager to be able to make positive changes, but it’s something that necessitates many an evolution.

This morning, the alarm went off at 7am. Boyfriend and I put a lot of merit in waking up early. For months we’ve been convinced that if we could just do this, everything would fall into place. We’d be healthier, happier, make better use of our time, eat better, have more time for our crative projects.

There’s one thing standing in the way of our early morning wakeups. Snuggletime. I know this seems like a silly thing, but it seriously takes hours from the time I first broach consciousness to the time I actually make it out of bed and into action. I can’t stand up against that sleepy feeling, the warm bed, a sleepy boy with arms and legs so long it’s like fighting an octopus to escape the cozy nest from which I’m not too inclined to absent myself.

Mornings are cold, often with fog as part of the package. Getting up when I’m really tired can sometimes give me a headache, spur a bad mood, and necessitate naps in the afternoon. This sleepiness is my Goliath. Finding a way to be happy and awake early in the morning feels like an almost unattainable goal. Boyfriend even started a blog back in February called “Waking at Five,” a shortlived experiment that resulted in one glorious day that lasted so long it seemed like 4 days put together.

I want a lifetime of these days.

So tonight, I will go to bed early. I won’t eat too much at night, and I will drink a lot of water. I will stretch and and go for a walk and I will set the alarm. And hopefully, by choosing this everyday, I will find a different habit.