Over the last few months, I have toyed several times with ideas of creating a new blog - a new blog for space enthusiasts, or one for awesome outdoor adventures, a help blog for people like me struggling to understand simple concepts that everyone pretends to understand but really doesn't - and somehow that doesn't pan out. Ever. Or in Taylor Swift's words, 'Like, Ever.'
And I come back here, every single time. This blog is home. It's familiar, it's comfortable, it's personal. Well, almost. The beauty of being so randomly public and so unreliably infrequent with posts is that nobody is really following. It's a very free float-like feeling in cyberspace.
Yesterday's trip to the beach was long due. I'm still sore from doing nothing other than being pummeled by the waves, and lying in the sun to try to even out the two-toned tan the last marathon training left on my legs. Two showers and several changes of clothes later, I think I may still find a grain of sand in my ear when I'm not looking.
The beach trip was cut short, sadly, by tabla class. Although the fun part was having to jump on five different freeways (1 to the 10 to the 110 to the 5 to the 2) in order to get there - just barely - on time. My very own mini-tour of LA.
Maybe this blog is like a big city. Plenty of room for all kinds of freeways of thought.
And I come back here, every single time. This blog is home. It's familiar, it's comfortable, it's personal. Well, almost. The beauty of being so randomly public and so unreliably infrequent with posts is that nobody is really following. It's a very free float-like feeling in cyberspace.
Yesterday's trip to the beach was long due. I'm still sore from doing nothing other than being pummeled by the waves, and lying in the sun to try to even out the two-toned tan the last marathon training left on my legs. Two showers and several changes of clothes later, I think I may still find a grain of sand in my ear when I'm not looking.
The beach trip was cut short, sadly, by tabla class. Although the fun part was having to jump on five different freeways (1 to the 10 to the 110 to the 5 to the 2) in order to get there - just barely - on time. My very own mini-tour of LA.
Maybe this blog is like a big city. Plenty of room for all kinds of freeways of thought.
