i'm scared if i don't write something today i will ruin my streak. one blog a day. at LEAST one blog a day. that's the plan. that's the way. i might fancy myself impulsive, but i'm at least as equally calculating. not writing means not caring - not caring to categorize those small inconsequential details that i might actually care to remember somewhere down the road. is blogging supposed to feel lame? and if so, is it something you get used to? what about blogging about blogging? am i setting myself up for some kind of existential crisis here, where i begin to question the worth of every last word i write and wonder (aloud, of course) if i've become that very person that i so often want to clothesline when i read my own stuff?
no, not gonna happen. let's start again.
today, i learned that kittens grow their adult teeth both during and before they lose their baby ones. thank you Fiona. i learned how to spell clothesline, the verb. thank you Mirriam-Webster. i learned that shipwrecked carnival cruise ships can actually end up on their sides like rubber toys in the bathtub. and i learned that facebook has apparently officially amassed enough social influence over me to violently shift my mood, one way or the other.
there. that's better.
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