Confession: I don’t want to write today. I’m tired. I just dozed off thinking of a title for this post. Besides, nothing incredibly noteworthy happened today.

This is precisely why I need to write. This is where I’ll stretch and grow.

One thing I saw seemed like a story prompt. I have a neighbor on the corner who isn’t very friendly. They still have Halloween decorations up. I saw the lady taking her garbage bin down the driveway. I thought it was odd- our trash comes on Wednesdays, and you can be fined if it’s out all willy-nilly. She kept walking, and wheeled the can down the street, toward the man boulevard. She was out of sight, and came back about half an hour later, the can’s loud rattling let me know it was mostly empty. My mind started racing, and I almost called out to her. In the end it was more fun to imagine she was smuggling Komodo Dragon blood or attempt to ascertain what potential crime I may have witnissed than to ask what she was up to.

School’s going well, and I got the classes I want for next semester. I’m especially excited for an English class which analyzes contemporary American fiction, but is also a workshop for applying stylistic and structural elements from stories by some of my favorite writers, like Lev Grossman and Karen Russell.

I don’t believe in jinxes, so I don’t believe harm will befall me for celebrating good fortune as of late.

I’m trying to ready my heart for Holy Week, which is somber and contemplative. I haven’t successfully observed Lent. In fact, I never have. It’s not something which was widely adopted in the evangelical churches I attended when I was younger I’d like to be disciplined, mindful, and love sacrificially enough to forego comfort and corporeal delight, but I have not. I think I could, but I didn’t have a good plan this year.

And now, Dear Readers, I plan to rest before hitting the rat race again on Monday. Please let yourselves out.






The Transfiguration by Raphael (1516-1520). A boy with epilepsy is depicted in the foreground

The Transfiguration by Raphael (1516-1520). A boy with epilepsy is depicted in the foreground.

I forgot about lent, and I really wanted to do it this year. After a period of confusion and mere survival, it seemed an exercise in devotion and focus would be therapeutic and  constructive. I didn’t grow up observing the lenten season, like most people who grew up in protestant camps. Wednesdays don’t usually capture my attention, and Utah isn’t exactly known as Mardi Gras central, which didn’t help. Ultimately, I was too busy and focused on my own junk, and did not make lent a priority.

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