I expect my modern existence will be revoked now. I’ve been staring at this screen with things to write that I haven’t been able to get out because of the noise from the TV, from the other computers in the house. I can’t string together a coherent thought. My life is full of noise. I’ve made it that way. I seek out the chaos. I enjoy it. I enjoy taming it, and I enjoy giving up to it. I’m spry. I’m finding that spry means that I seem to dart and dash without building anything. The constant running keeps me busy, and that busyness keeps me from becoming introverted, which is not good for me these days. I’ve lived my life thus far by improvisation, going where the wind blew me. “Blooming where I was planted,” as many well-meaning people have described me. And it’s worked for me, I guess. It’s kind of zen. Wake up in the morning, see what the day brings, don’t borrow trouble, all that… But I’m wishing that I was doing something real. I’m wanting a serious goal, a serious reason. I don’t quite know how to find one, I think. I’m not sure I’m a serious person, to tell the truth. I don’t let myself concentrate on it much. That’s pretty much the only defense I can make, and it’s pretty much crap. Where do you start to set lifegoals when you’re 35? I don’t feel that I even have a clear idea of how to define what I’m after. My day-to-day existence is pretty cool, actually. I have people I love, students I teach, projects I abandon, and stories shot through all of it. What more am I seeking, exactly? Money? Fame? Purpose? Enlightenment? And then sometimes, I think I want something that I do for the simple love of it. Because it makes me happy. What is it that I simply love? I feel too tired and distracted to even think about it. Even now, I’m splitting my attention – thinking about making a birthday wishlist. I’ll go ahead and do that here: bike knitting needles cool mighty boosh stuff music maybe a kindle dx? (not sure on this one) That’s all I’ve got that feels like birthday. Of course, I have a list of house projects and ideas. I want to pay things off, and travel, and spend time with just my husband, and with just my family, and with just my friends, and with just myself. I want to make something of myself. I want to make something cool for dinner. But those desires are ongoing. Judging by the company I keep, they are widespread, as well. Everyone I know worries about juggling commitments, dividing their time and money into smaller and smaller slivers to parcel out to hungry schedules. We are all muddling through. Lives of loud desperation. I need the quiet.