Now is my time to write.
I've got another hour or two left at work, and nothing to do. And when I get home I will be busy with other things. So, now is my time to write. But I don't feel anything to write about just now.
I've got a list of twenty ideas for things to write about. Ideas or topics I want to explore, funny or poignant or interesting stories from my life I want to tell, that kind of thing. All there for an occasion just such as this, where I need to write, but I'm uninspired, or out of ideas. But I look at that list, and I'm still not feeling anything. Sure, there are things on there that I could write about. But if I don't feel inspired to write about them at that moment, if I don't feel a need or a pull to tell this-story-right-here-right-now, then I don't want to write it. I want to do a good job telling these stories, and writing these essays. They mean something to me, and I don't want to just toss off something mediocre simply because I couldn't come up with a better idea at the time. That feels like a waste. So, even though I've saved these ideas for times just like this, I'm finding that I can't actually use them for times like this.
Ok, so, what else, then? I guess I have no choice but to do what I'm doing now - basically writing out the internal monologue I'm experiencing regarding the process I'm currently going through. Not quite stream-of-conciousness, but still a think-it-then-write-it kind of situation.
Wow. Thrillsville.
So, what else?
My boss and I have been limping around the office like Jerry's Kids all day today. But at least he's got an excuse - he's fifteen years older than I am, and he played a double-header last night! I, on the other hand, nearly break my hip just trying to run to first base. I guess that's what fifteen years of sitting on your ass getting stoned will get you.
She's going out with one her girlfriends tonight. (Actually, to be truthful, her only girlfriend. But that's ok - it's still one more friend than I've got.) They're going to hit some bars and get drunk and try to enjoy themselves while fending off the drunk old men who see them as An Opportunity. Afterwards, her friend will be spending the night at our place. Which will be weird for me, because it means I will have to wear pants.
I'm looking forward to having some time alone tonight, actually. I've enjoyed having Her home lately, no doubt about that. But I must admit I've also missed the little pieces of time to myself that I used to get each week. So, having a few hours to be home by myself will be nice. I plan to spend the time playing video games. While not wearing pants.
Reading all of this, it strikes me as sounding really pathetic and lonely and sad. So let me just clarify that I'm not in any way upset right now. Not at all. I feel fine. Not great, but perfectly alright. Not jumping off the walls with excitement or anything, but I'm not depressed or upset at all, either. Just killing some time until I can go home for the weekend. Just calling it like I see it. Just my usual brand of casually brutal honesty. (Focused inward, as is so often the case. She thinks I'm too hard on her sometimes, and I often wonder if she has any idea how much harder I always am on myself.)
On a brighter note, we're going to see The Avengers tomorrow night. In IMAX 3D. Something I've been excited about, to an unhealthy degree, for literally years. We went to see Thor and Captain America almost entirely because we considered them to be essentially prequels to The Avengers. Afterwards, we're going to go out to a late dinner somewhere and geek out over the movie we've just seen. Which is still one of my all-time favorite things in the world to do with Her. And I'm going to order a Shirley Temple, and try to enjoy feeling ten years-old again.
Shouldn't be that hard, if I'm honest. I barely feel post-pubescent as it is.
Maybe she'll let me kiss her when I take her home after dinner.
And maybe, just maybe, if I'm really, really lucky, she'll let me touch her boobies.
A boy can dream...
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