My fish is bulimic. He always stays at the bot­tom of his bowl. When I drop food pel­lets in the water, he swims towards the rip­ples, nib­bles on one, then spits it back out. Then he slowly floats to the bot­tom of the bowl again, rest­ing his fins flat on the pebbles.

Along with the first spi­der of the sea­son (which I killed tonight), spring has brought hope. For some rea­son, I think it’s going to be a good sum­mer. I can’t even explain why. Maybe I miss the heat, or I had good mem­o­ries of last sum­mer, or this is hap­pen­ing again¹. I’ve been lis­ten­ing to the songs I dis­cov­ered last sum­mer in antic­i­pa­tion. Like this one, by Jenny Owen Youngs:

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Holy crap. Listening to this song now is…fucked. I always thought it was a good song, but never really related to the lyrics. Until now.

Due to the win­tery eco­nomic cli­mate², they’ve lim­ited my hours at work. So much for keep­ing the brain busy; it appears that I’m run­ning out of places to hide³. While this came at a time when I really needed the money, I’m glad to have more free time now. It seems like every day I’m rush­ing to do this or that, with barely a chance to breathe, liv­ing to work, instead of work­ing to live. I’m won­der­ing if I can just stop, decide to live with some debt, and just relax.

This was the first night I had to myself, and it was only because other plans fell through. The only chance I had to relax was spend­ing an hour cus­tomiz­ing the icons on my new Mac Mini. Aside from a week­night here and there to catch up with John over some Warcraft 3, I haven’t actu­ally sat down to play a game in a long time. I’m hop­ing that at some point, I’ll be able to slow down and enjoy things again.

Although I’m not sure if I want that right now.

1. Yes, I just ref­er­enced an entry I wrote six years ago. I tend to have a pho­to­graphic mem­ory for things I’ve writ­ten. [↑]
2. This term is stolen from an awe­some movie. High five and a cookie if you got the ref­er­ence. [↑]
3. This is totally a line from the Jenny Owen Youngs song too. YOU LIKE THAT. SHIT IS SO CASH. [↑]