I keep thinking about it, though. All of it, all of what I'm doing and all the work and everything, and it's all so very... I don't know! Words are failing me. They aren't lining themselves up neatly to be transcribed from gray squelch electronic spasms into typing. All I know and all I can say is that I work too much. I need to work less. I want to only work 30 hour weeks so that I can actually enjoy this city that I live in.
I like selling socks and apple computer machines and fries and stuffed animals and all of that, but I'm ready to be doing something more up my alley. More me. I guess that's why I have been spending my time with my computer strapped to my back, ready for adventure (the type I write) in case it strikes.
So I don't know. Lots of options here. I need to live more cheaply to live more fully. I like my decadence but I can't afford it. I will have to be decadent in other ways. I have to choose more selectively, the decadence I partake in. Nice coffee beans, not a nice coffee place. Nice ingredients, not a nice restaurant.
Maybe I'll get good at the living part, and then I can start getting better at the adventuring bit.
Also, until friday, I have 29 dollars. Unless I sell a stuffed animal, a story, or my moped. I hope to sell all three.
A bientot.
