Sitting in a bakery that feels like a coffee shop longing for espresso and wondering what to write about.
That was the initial title of this, blog post, or whatever these things are, but don’t worry I’ll get somewhere and spin all this yarn into a sweater with a clever saying on the front at some point along the way. Probably.
Don’t overthink it.
That’s what people tell me sometimes, but if the end result of overthinking is this madness before me called my life, what in the world would under thinking look like?
Six months ago I quit my job, which shouldn’t come as a surprise if you’ve been reading, but if it it is news, there you go. Since then I’ve been on a wild ride filled with all sorts of ridiculously wonderful and undeniably difficult experiences and so far, I’ve come out the other side for the better. There’s no way we could even start to explore what led to the deciding to say goodbye to the security of biweekly paychecks, but it could be summed up in terms of watching something great turn into something else, and frankly getting sick of the bitter coffee.
Well the coffee tastes better these days, and instead of sitting inside writing about being outside I am outside. Not right now of course. Right now I’m inside, but I had plans to be outside. They didn’t happen, but plans were made, that’s the point, and they didn’t include going into an office.
So what is this going to be? Well, there’s a lot in store for the rest of spring, this summer, and beyond. So we’ll be talking about that, whatever it becomes. My current work demands a lot of time on the trail, and I’ll avoid turning this into another blog where I talk about how neat the visitor’s center was and how helpful the interpretive signs were and any of that sterile garbage that leads only toward the unfortunate dwelling place of convertible khaki pants and ventilated safari shirts and a hollow, misled existence. No offense intended, of course. No. This will of course be a bit more along the lines of Heydukian fist shaking, bullshit calling, truth spraying variety. It’ll land soft and sweetly on the ears of its intended audience and be rejected wholly by those who favor softer messages, coddled feelings, and bullshit in general.
How many words is this thing, anyway? 428, perfect. I’ll stay under 500 words per post, and I won’t come up with a “curated” posting plan, I’ll write about important things as they happen, serendipitously. I’m not worried about engagement, or the backend analytics. Life is so, so much richer than this absurd constant barrage of nonsense we’re calling life these days. Am I a hypocrite for writing a blog post talking about spending less time reading crap like this? Maybe. But there are many ways to use a tool, some good, some bad.
Just don’t overthink it.