. . . is the only thing that matters

So, I was reading Hyperbole and a Half the other day, watching Allie recount a story of determination outweighing good sense in the very young, and I (as many of Allie's readers do) saw much of my adult self in her childhood. How many times do I fixate on something that's going to ruin the rest of my day? As an adult it's much worse -- not only should I know better, but usually the object of my fixation isn't even something with immediate gratification. It's not delicious cake with marshmallow animal sculptures, but it's the horrible, horrible fellow commuter who didn't use a turn signal to warn me I was about to be cut off. It's the fact that I slept in again rather than going to my yoga mat. It's the new facebook video game. I don't usually tolerate video games, but for some reason if you make it look like a medieval castle and imply I'm responsible for the well being of hundreds of nameless peasants, I'm liable to try it (and feel guilty if my peasants get raided later on when I inevitably abandon the game.)

So this week I'm trying something different. I'm taking a full break from the video game, I'm deliberately sleeping in and shifting my workout to after I get home from the office, and I'm re-opening this blog to the public. After all, there's a particular brand of complaint that you just can't share with people you know, and your only options are to hire a therapist or write a blog.

I make no pretensions that I will be posting regularly or interestingly. I will share my failures more often than my victories, and some day (when I get more victories) I'll open a completely unrelated blog and probably never tell anyone here about it. I am about to see if there is healing to be found in anonymity, and low expectations.