To be called unconventional is to receive the highest compliment, for to have led an interesting life is the best use of one.
Salmon P. Chase wrote it better during December 1829 than I ever could.
I feel humbled and mortified by the conviction that the Creator has gifted me with intelligence almost in vain. I am almost twenty two and have as yet attained but the threshold of knowledge. …
The night has seldom found me much advanced beyond the station I occupied in the morning … I almost despair of ever making any figure in the world.
My new hobby: considering law schools.
I have back my laptop, and she lives. Despite the best efforts of my Country Time® Lemonade Mix — 40 Percent Less Sugar than Soda! — I am back at the blog, and intend as many updates as ever.
I suspect that this is for you underwhelming, as much as it is for me overwhelming. This blog has long since faded into the typical irrelevancy of an online diary, and I don’t even know where to begin after more than a month away from the keys.
As I write this, my girlfriend distractingly calls from her bed.
What are you writing about? Are you writing about how I met your parents? Your stepmom is a great cook. Chili, pork tenderloin. Man, those Corn Flakes were good. Mmmm. You should write about how we left the milk out twice, and how your sister told us to take a drive up Hicks Road, and it was okay. The drive up to Santa Cruz was much prettier. You should write about how you surprised me with that trip, and with the sandwiches we made before we left.
She begins to coo for a while, and then satisfies herself with breathing heavily. I hear an occasional hum before the inevitable sighs and the rustling of sheets as she turns away from the screen.
I’ll think of something to write, but later. For now, I have better things to do.