2/2

Today, as I was writing the date on a piece of paper, I had to notice that it is February 2nd. This is a day that already boasts a lot of important holidays like World Wetlands Day, Inventor's Day in Thailand, and Groundhog Day, which is when a subterranean rodent named Phil emerges from its earthen abode to do absolutely nothing and have that decide the very weather patterns which will soon befall us, and at whose mercy we live our fragile little lives. Despite all this, I realized something about today that I never had before: it is missing a very important tradition.

Written in most month/date formats, today's date would generally be 2/2. If you forget all the associated date stuff and simply pronounce the numbers, it then becomes 2 2, or two two. This sounds phonetically identical to an article of clothing worn by ballerinas called the tutu. Therefore, it stands to reason that there be established a tradition that people start wearing tutus on February 2nd to celebrate two two with a clever play on words/numbers/dates/stuff! Yeah! Look how awesome it could be!!!

Adorable!

I can't stand it!

Splendid!

Okay sure!

Uh... well, maybe.

Wait

uh...

Oh geeze

Okay

...

After some more thought, maybe we already have enough holidays.

Internet Treachery

The internet can be a dark, devastating place. Part of the reason this is possible is because of its rampant anonymity. Sometimes people choose to do abhorrent things when they know their identity will not be attached to their deeds. Today, I tell a tale of internet treachery.

As the story goes, I was on the internet. I was scrolling and looking and reading and chuckling. It was a fairly normal interaction with the internet. I wouldn’t say we’re close, but we do spend a fair amount of time together and have developed a mutual understanding. As I scrolled mid-chuckle down a feed of the internet, I saw a thing. The thing was an article that touched on what was, for me, a topic of great interest. As I slouched there on my couch, I became intrigued.

The only thing that gave me pause was that the title of said article seemed click-baity to me. As I expressed in a blogpost that none of you have read because I never published it and would therefore not serve to present you with the following information, I

/loathe/

click-baiting articles. They make me upset in ways that leave me feeling really upset. Sometimes, I will forego clicking on a link that seems very interesting to me simply because the title is click-baity, and I refuse to give in to such base dross. This probably speaks to deep issues of my own, but, hey, look over there.

This time, however, the subject matter was of such great interest, and the article title was not-blatantly-or-annoyingly-click-baity-enough and I couldn’t refuse.

So! Situation set up, I was scrolling and saw an article entitled Tonight will be the longest night in the history of Earth—Why it’ll be the longest period of darkness in the last 4.5 billion years. Color me intrigued! You might notice the last post on this very blog has to do with Daylight Saving Time, the shortening of days, and increased darkness. I am passionate about my sunshine, and had been excited about the solstice for weeks because it marks the point where the amount of day in a day starts increasing again. That, coupled with my love of all things astronomy, helped me swallow my pride and convinced me to click on this little linky to learn a lil sumthin about some science in preparation for my day in the sun. But when the internet did its thing and the article loaded, this was the title that awaited me:

Correction: Tonight will not be the longest night in the history of Earth.

What? Wait, what? You mean to tell me I clicked on your link because I was interested to read about its subject matter and your article exists merely to tell me the literal opposite of what I was interested in? Hmm. Go on.

What the heck? You drew me in by piquing my interest just to make me come all the way across these bandwidths to tell me that the thing that piqued my interest isn’t actually a thing at all. The very explanation we promised you doesn’t exist, so here’s a sentence telling you something else entirely. Hope that works. Hey if you come over here I'll tell you about this thing! Nope jk nvrmndlol

With all the effort that goes into editing in the correction, why not just change the title or delete the post entirely? Maybe the effect of the original click-baiting has worn off and now articles will just have any old title that might get you to click, and when you get there it will be about literally anything else.

Lose weight in 3 easy steps!

Ways to use meat!

A touching story about puppies!

Your favorite actor on vacation!

Will robots?

Money, etc.!

After all, clicks, etc., and who doesn't love a good surprise?

Harbinger, Lifebringer

Gather close all you hold dear, and run and hide—a great evil is upon us.

We are currently entrenched in probably my favorite time of the year: the autumn. This has likely been apparent to those of you who have eyes and use them to see things. On the calendar, it tells you we are in the months generally held in the northern hemisphere to make up autumn. Also trees start going through weird hormonal changes, and it looks cool to the rest of us, unlike our own hormonal changes as tweens. Autumn presents a time of transcendent beauty, and a time of transition. Although the transition itself is a sight to behold, it is a transition to a bleaker time. Indeed, after fall’s beauty has passed us by, a heartless dame comes to take something precious and usher in the cold night of winter...

Whether or not you buy into its efficiency or sensibility, Daylight Saving is a veritable entity in the majority of the United States. It comes around twice a year. Each time, Daylight Saving involves a mysterious form of time travel—you go to bed and wake up and time itself has shifted. You see, Daylight Saving time was invented by the druids, who cast a spell on the sun and created a wormhole through which the sun and the earth would pass twice a year, once taking us back in time an hour and once propelling us into the future an hour. Because of this wormhole time travel and paradigm shift, the relationship between the earth and the sun is altered, and the time at which the sun sets and rises is altered along with it. So Daylight Saving comes twice a year, and we’re lucky to survive it—it’s a pretty big deal. One of these times, it is harbinger lifebringer, my favorite thing in the entire world. The other time, it is my greatest enemy, the bane of my very existence. The former is Spring Forward. The very mention of it makes my heart spring from my chest and propel itself an unsafe distance from my body. The latter is Fall Back. Many people enjoy ‘Fall Back,’ because it gives them an extra hour of sleep. These people are the wrongest people I’ve ever mentioned on the internet.

Imagine a world shrouded in darkness. It shouldn’t be too hard to imagine—Pitbull won a Grammy. You awake to the sound of nothing, echoing off of nothing else. You peer out the window and see shadows, cast by nothing onto nothing else. The moon hails from afar, distant enough that it’s light ne’er seems to reach. There is no laughter, there is no hope. Darkness without respite, hollowness without end. You peer into the lugubriousness and feel only a reflection of what has become of your conscience. You arise to blackness—a blackness that accompanies you throughout your day, surrounding your physical being while permeating the mental. You lie down again in blackness. The accomplishments of your day are swallowed up in the gaping hole left in the sky by the departure of the only thing that gave you any meaning. This is your life now.

Now think about the alternative. You time travel to another time, full of light and warmth and heat and prosperity. You have an extra hour of light to do whatever you please, or whatever pleases you. And in this extra hour, you are warm. You can feel the love and innocence of a child. You bask in the majesty of life and understanding. You are at peace. You are one. The reason you lose an hour of sleep is because you are so excited to travel to this time and place. It’s something new and exciting, yet familiar all at the same time. It’s something brave and candescent, something inspiring and grand. Inaudible music ebbs and flows around you and you feel inspiration in each ray from the sun that gently glazes your skin. You know that this is where you’re meant to be. You’ve always been meant to be, but especially here. It’s like coming home to a home, the air filled with the scent of freshly baked bread, the walls covered in pictures of loved ones and achievements. You plop down on a gentle couch and it all comes rushing back to you. Disappointed that you’d ever let it leave in the first place, you take it all in, top it off with a deep breath, and sink into the dream-like reality.

If you're not awares and maybe missed the wormhole, we have just experienced Fall Back. Sure, Fall Back allows for an extra hour of sleep. But that only happens once. And in this Fallen Back world you’ve encountered, an hour of sunlight has been sucked from your day every day. When you’re subject to an early sunset, the darkness onsets sooner. This reminds you of the frailty of life and your inability to control your surroundings. As the darkness sets in, so does your doubt and all of your fears—one hour earlier than usual. So you get to keep your hour, but instead of being an hour of light and happiness and hope and motivation, it’s an hour filled with dread and regret for all the things you’ve done and all the things you could be. I feel it. I feel it every day. To me the choice is clear.

And so until then, I await thee, Harbinger, Lifebringer, Songsinger, Lightslinger; until the bright dawn of lengthened day sends forth a new hope and fills our lives with surety, allows us to dream again. Until the dross of frailty is pulled from our hearts, I will press on, eager in anticipation, waiting strong for that great day. Yea; come.

SHOO, FLY

Summer is usually a nice time. Aside from sweltering heat that swelters, the sun is nice, and the weather is nice, and the long days are nice. One thing that’s not nice about summer is insects, which are technically a plethora of things. One insect that is particularly not nice is the fly.

Despite their hipster appeal and glowing mystique, flies are common, and inconsiderate, and make a habit of touching gross things. This understanding has caused me a bit of concern over the last day or two. Somehow, a couple of flies have made their way into my abode. As far as I’m aware, there are two of them. One is in my bedroom. The other is in my living room. These are the places that I spend all of my time when home. So! When I’m relaxing in my chair in my room, there is a fly to annoy me. When I’m relaxing on my couch in the living room, there is a fly to annoy me. And annoy me they do! They buzz around me almost constantly. They’ll buzz onto my leg, so I swat at them. This will cause an evasive buzz before they turn and plop back exactly where they were before. Maybe they didn’t get the hint. I swat again and they courteously buzz around for a moment on their way up to my face, which is obviously preferable. I swat and then they go for the ear, which completes my annoyance by providing a grating soundtrack to the whole pantomime. You know the routine.

Seeing as how this has become a regular occurrence, I have been thinking about it a lot. And this is where the concern comes in. Here is internet knowledge—partake:

House Flies

• House flies, also known as "filth flies," have the ability to harm humans and animals. They're attracted to garbage, manure and carrion. Once they land on these substances, they transport bits of them to people when they land on food and surfaces where food is prepared. House flies not only regurgitate their stomach contents onto food before ingesting it again, they also defecate on food. House flies are not picky about the foods or filth that they consume.

House flies are horribly annoying and endlessly disgusting. This paragraph consists of 4 sentences. In them, we are brought to understand 7 horrendous facts about flies. This is an unpromising ratio for one’s reputation. However, the second sentence is the one upon which I am currently fixated. If flies are attracted to garbage, manure, and carrion, why are they so infatuated with me all of a sudden? My apartment is not always a cleanly place. In fact, until the other day, it was quite uncleanly. Why, if there’s a sizable pile of trash 15 feet away, do these flies find the need to instead come and poop and barf on and then get a taste of me? I mean I’d understand and maybe be a little flattered if these flies had the reputation of being attracted to charm or wit or nuance. But when you type ‘what are flies attracted to’ into your web browser, those are not the responses. They’re trash, poop, and rotting corpses.  I take pride in being able to fully bathe myself. Does that mean nothing to them? Do I smell bad? Do I not clean myself well enough? Am I rotting? I’m pretty sure I’m not a corpse yet. Furthermore, not only are they attracted to these things, but they literally will not eat anything until they smother it in a layer of vomit or crap, or both. What about me is so like the epitome of waste that they would go out of their way and risk being swatted or smashed or enduring a livid diatribe to                   get some?

Guh. So not only are these flies annoying and filthy and hipster and uncouth, but they have succeeded in withering my self-confidence. Herein we see the effects of the first point brought up in the all-knowing paragraph above: flies can harm people. We all know flies can’t physically harm us unless attached to a bomb. But they sure can do some emotional damage if you let them. If something as unawares as a fly senses something putrid about me, I find it difficult to assume that sentient, cognizant human beings won’t be able to pick up on the same. If I stink or otherwise remind you of roadkill, please please let me know. I want to change. I really do.

On a related note, fall is (has been) here! As we traverse the season, colder weather draws ever nearer. In fact, I’ve received reports that tonight will be accompanied by freezing temperatures for the first time all year. Colder weather will bring an end to these flies, and perhaps, a rebirth of my self esteem thereby. The circle of life, everyone.

Let this be a lesson to us all that, no matter how large our trials and challenges may be, we can chip away at them until they become a crumpled sobbing heap on the floor of life. All you have to do is treat them like they’re fecal. Also, tell someone you love them today, and maybe that they don’t smell terrible.

Y27

Once upon a time, I was born. It was an experience. I leave ‘experience’ free of adjectives because the first few I thought of sounded pretty gross and I had trouble (wasn’t willing to think about it for more than a few seconds) thinking of non-gross adjectives that I could actually confirm were true. You see, I don’t remember much about my birth. I do, however, remember a plethora of things that have happened since then. Turns out I’m alive, and when you’re alive, your brain captures and holds onto snippets of life that we like to call memories. In its capturing and general awareness, the brain is also pretty good at noticing things. Our ability to notice things and manipulate what we’ve noticed into self-awareness and observations and lessons and understandings separates our mental capacity as humans; our willingness to go through this process often and openly quantifies our capacity to live above the mundane. I like to think I’m not overly mundane, and I credit that to the aforementioned process, which is available to all humans, of which I am one.

Below you will find a blog post. I have written this blog post in honor of my birthday. This post has been posted a decent amount of time after my birthday due to lack of internet. It is still valid. I do this every year to recount important lessons I’ve learned from important experiences I’ve experienced since my last birthday. This year is no exception. Come and learn of my experience:

1.) True to yourself

In posts past, a common theme of my musing has been being true to myself. All of those musings attempted to approach the concept via the lens of integrity. Integrity is an intensely immensely important part of living a healthy and centered life, as far as I am concerned. However, this year, I want to muse the semantic opposite of this idea as originally phrased, and that means not being TOO true to oneself.

My integrity is something that I've always wanted to strengthen; and, no matter the level at which one’s integrity is found, can always be strengthened. Living with integrity involves, in essence, living according to what you know (or feel in the absence of unadulterated knowledge) to be true and right. If looked at in that sense, not being too true to yourself could fall under the spectrum of living with integrity. What I'm ultimately getting at is that sometimes our base desires go against our greater understanding or deeper feelings. And in those instances, we should try to be something a little different than what we are. Ejemplo: I am not the most proactive of people. I am not always outgoing or thoughtful or kind or social or understanding. And even though I can be these things sometimes, it’s not uncommon for my desire in any given situation to be to act in a way that is far from them. In short, I am human and am dross. My natural response in many situations is to take the low road. And were I to be unfalteringly true to myself, or to that desire, in all of those situations, I would be a pretty big douche.

I think self-mastery is one of the most important skills that we can develop. By definition, self-mastery involves overcoming (or maybe reconfiguring?) our base druthers. The very purpose of this would be to allow one to operate on a higher plane. Believing this to be the case then, my living in a way that discourages self-mastery is not living with integrity and is opening myself up to a series of feelings and actions that are perhaps the first to manifest, but the last to point me in the direction I know to be best.

So! I believe in being honest and patient with oneself and where one’s at, but I also believe in being discontent with the same. Honesty and patience are entirely different entities than lazy self-discipline, and should never be confused. I believe that we become better versions of ourselves when we exercise this honesty and patience in conjunction with aspiration and potential.  After all:

“We cannot become what we need to be by remaining what we are.”  - Max Dupree

I often like to look back and see how far I've come. That distance can never come to be if I continually stay where I am. Progress is made by being truer to one’s potential than to one’s present. Fake it ‘til you make it, because once you do, it's no longer fake.

2.) Creaturesque habit

Sometimes I feel like I repeat myself too much, and sometimes I feel like I don't repeat myself enough. The first is usually in terms of verbality, and the second in action. I'm a creature of habit. My Swype originally auto-corrected this to a creator of habit. That is something I need to be. And thus we embark on a new lesson. Thanks, Swype.

Forming good habits is a good thing—it's an essential thing in building towards a productive and fulfilling life. Forming good habits is hard. Forming good habits requires a lot of the things I described above, like self-mastery and large amounts of effort and uncomfortability and discipline and gumption and good habits and etc. But the nice thing about habits, is that once they they come to be, they become easy. A habit by definition is a habitual process or occurrence, i.e. one that requires little to no effort or comes naturally. Habits can only disappear when replaced by other habits, or habitual whatever. There's science involved in all this, but suffice it to say: It is important to form good habits. It is important to maintain good habits. It is important to avoid bad habits. Good habits maintained beget other goods habits. Bad habits maintained (even by inaction) beget bad habits. A series of bad habits compounded with more bad habits makes for a bad time, and is a difficult thing to bounce back from. I suppose in a way this ties in quite a bit to the previous section but I already wrote them separately and it would be hard to come up with a good segue. I choose to perpetuate my bad habit of taking the easy way out and promise to do better, and in doing so, simultaneously prepare for myself more opportunities to work on it in the future. I’m sure there’s a flaw in logic in there somewhere.

3. Brain Drain

Above, I said that something sufficed to be said. Apparently it did not, because herein I will expound on the aforementioned talking point. This is a section wherein I might discuss the glory of the human brain. An aspect of the brain in which I have particular interest is neural pathways. Neural pathways are the paths through which signals travel in our brains. The part of this process that is most pertinent and fascinating to me is the plasticity or adaptability of the brain and these pathways. Essentially, this points to how the pathways that are used or accessed more often become easier to… use or access—this is the science behind habits. Herein, then, lies the importance of proper brain maintenance. If one stops using neural pathways that have been developed by doing insert good thing here, those pathways get devoted to other things. If they were devoted to a good thing, you don’t want them to be replaced unless it’s by a better thing. It's easier to retain than to re-obtain. There are lots of ways to keep one’s mind fresh and growing. Do! It affects more things than one might realize! There are lots of easier ways to let your brain go. But don’t. It affects more things than one might realize.

4. Hail to the buttress

I think I’ve failed to make a secret of the fact that I feel relationships are important. For the longest time, I’ve had so many amazing people that have supported and inspired me throughout the years. Life, however, is not arranged in such a way as to be impervious to change. In recent times, a lot of close, amazing, closely amazing friends finished whatever brought them to my vicinity and moved on. I, however, did not, leaving me in whatever state I was in, but without them.

This was a difficult transition. I’m sure most have gone through a period where they have suddenly found themselves at a diminished level of support. The very definition of support is that it buoys and fortifies and uplifts. When that support is lost, a feeling of the opposite is sure to follow. Being affronted with a form of solitude, I chose to use it as an excuse to try and be more independent. I tried to use that time to refine myself as an individual. And that was good. But I realize now more than ever that it’s when I’m with and touched by others that I’m far and away at my best. Time that I spent trying to refine myself by myself was aight, but was also time that I could’ve spent practicing refinement in and through my interactions with others. And no matter how much I focus on and fight myself, more progress is always made when my focus is outward rather than inward.

Not to say that independence and autonomy are not important—on the contrary. But in my experience, I've found that it's easier to be independent and autonomous when I know that there's someone there to support and encourage me through it all. When we are independent and make independent decisions, we are bound to make poor decisions. It's easier to go through the whole process anyway when we know that there's someone to lift us back up when we've taken a spill. The way you get to have people in your life that are willing and able to do that is through being interdependent. Relationship-based investments pay the highest dividends.

5) Clever headline

Remember the past, but just enough to be grateful for the present. Old struggles may not be gone forever and may resurface when circumstances change. Be grateful for progress and for growth and for those struggles as they will help you be ready for whatever comes next (or at least to handle whatever comes next), which could be anything. Really.

6) Conclusion, of sorts

I like how these always start off detailed and descriptive and poetic and then trickle off into simple (more) to the point things. If you’ve made it this far, you probably understand the associated feeling because I wanted to be done writing as much as you probably wanted me to be done writing.

But! That in no way diminishes from the weight of these writings. A lot of bad decisions and thought processes went into them, and a few good ones. So they could potentially mean a lot. Life often takes unexpected turns. It often takes undesired turns. It will continue to twist and to turn. I’m happy about the things I get to continue to learn through the turns, though they may burn and feel stearn. I learned a lot last year, and I’ve already learned a lot this year. Our willingness to openly and frequently go through the process of learning from our past experiences quantifies our capacity to live above the mundane. Sometimes we end up being unwilling participants in this process. But willing or not, I’ve found it best to always be grateful for having participated, because: 1.) if you don’t glean the good from the bad, you end up with only bad  2.) something about never wanting to willingly do hard things because they’re hard, but also about some of the most precious moments coming from these times because they teach us what to value most.

That seemed like a powerful note to end on, but also seemed cliffhangerish. I don't know how to end this.

Paranormloia and the Mystery of the Squatch

This morning I went on a hike. I've been trying to do that regularly of late, taking advantage of the nice weather to keep in shape. This morning, however, I went quite a bit earlier than usual. I woke up before my alarm and couldn't get back to sleep, so I thought I'd make the most of the extra time. It ended up being great—I was up and back before it got too hot, and the rising of the sun made for an aesthetically pleasing venture. Plus, a certain peace attends the early morning as many still lie aslumber, abound in dreams of whither their minds might wander.

The only thing that concerned me about the hike was that the peace and quiet might necessitate extra precautions. My mind is an imaginative one, which makes for fun and terrifying experiences. A factoid that I frequently remember on my hikes is that cougars and bears are not foreign to the Wasatch Mountains, which is where I hike. Therefore, paranoid as a clam, I am constantly on the qui vive for signs of dangerously adjacent and adjacently dangerous animals. Except for scat. I am no scatman. Today, as with every other day, there were no signs of dangerous animals, and no cause for worry. Except for scat.

...until...

By the time I had climbed and was heading back down the mountain, the city below had begun to stir. The most notable sign of this was the construction happening just downhill from my trail of choice; I had noticed the familiar clank and whir of heavy machinery when I was about halfway down the mountain. As I approached the section of trail that ran adjacent to the construction site, I glanced over, mildly interested in what they were working on at the moment. I didn't expect to see much, as they were still at the point of leveling the dirt. And I didn't, really. A bulldozer, dozing bulls, and dirt. However, as I continued to watch, the bulldozer lurched forward, and, like a drawing curtain, gradually revealed a mysterious scene. In the trees behind where the bulldozer previously worked, there stood a lone, dark figure...

My first thought was bear, because I'm bearanoid. But then logic came acallin', and I remember'd that bears usually avoid loud noises. Heavy machines, which were directly nearby, produce loud noises. Therefore, etc. Upon examining the shape further, I decided that it was probably just a dark stump or rock or other thing of limited interest. Drained of any previous intrigue, I was about to forget the spectacle entirely when my mind stumbled upon an astute association: wooded surroundings, indistinct dark figure, mystery... This was the perfect set-up to make my very own instagram joke/insubstantial claim about Bigfoot! Along with possible danger of death, my senses are also always on the qui vive for instagram fodder.

So I stopped along the trail and pulled out my phone/camera. I was a good ways off, so at first I was concerned about how the resolution of the picture would turn out. But further consideration led me to realize that the blurrier it was, the more similar it would be to all of the other Bigfoot evidence pics. I chuckled to myself as I zoomed in as far as my camera could and tried to find the dark shape on the screen. It was difficult to aim the camera precisely, as is common with zoomed-in long-distance shots. I glanced up at the actual scene to find a point of reference from which to work. When my eyes rested on the scene below, I suddenly became uneasy. The dark figure that I had assumed to be inanimate began to move—just noticeably at first, before it sunk slowly into the surrounding foliage...

I stood there, dumbfounded, and a little disconcerted. My eyes remained fixed on the spot. For a moment, I hoped that the shape would reappear so that I could still get some sort of shot. Or was it the hope that another look might quell my fears? Man. What was that?

I snapped out of my stupor and continued the final leg of my hike, this time picking up the pace a little bit and glancing over my shoulder from time to time. Seeing mysterious, mobile, black shapes in the woods doesn't help bearanoia. It also doesn't help paranormloia, which is paranoia of the paranormal if you're not good at dissecting words that I just made up. I had sasquatch on the mind while all this was happening and my logical conclusion from earlier was that it probably wasn't a bear. So my next logical conclusion is that it was probably sasquatch, or a construction worker. But if it was the latter, that dude was pretty sasqueschtrian, which means abounding in sasquatch-like features or having to do with the squatch if you're still not good at dissecting words that I just made up. He would have probably been teased about it in the past, in which case I would feel bad, but wouldn't deny that it was true. I don't know. The color of the thing was uniform and it was super dark and moved lumberly and creepily. If that was human, get that man a posture coach. I don't know if that's a real thing (it is), but I'm making weird suggestions to cope with the discomfort I feel at having witnessed the unknown—perhaps something that precious few have ever seen before. In my heart of hearts, I believe I have joined the ranks of the Squatchwatch: an exclusive guild that I just made up of eyewitnesses of the mystery of the squatch if you're still not good at dissecting words that I just made up. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the squatch; he was trampling out the vintage where some grapes and stash were watched. Glory glory, hallelujah. There's no turning back. So be wary as you wander the foothills of the Wasatch—there is magic about. There's big in them there foothills, if you catch my drift. Perhaps, henceforth, they should be referred to as the Swasatchquatch. Sqwatchsatch? Wasaquatchs. I'm no good at this.

Constpotifyaytion

Sundays are chill, unless something makes them not chill. A few examples of things that could make them not chill are:

• heat
• catastrophes
• things that scare/disturb you a lot

Today Sunday was mostly chill. It was hot outside and in, but I am borrowing a fan, which creates anti-heat. No catastrophes have happened today, at least not in the direct vicinity of my bed, which is where most of my day has been wrought. Part of today Sunday was super unchill, and it involved the last thing on the list above.

The evening was winding down and I was relaxed on my bed. I am of the opinion that Sundays are great days for intellectual endeavors, generally being less filled with cockamamie distractions and responsibilities than other days. This rang true today, and I endeavored my intellect. When feeling intellectual and endeavorous, I am wont to listen to instrumental music. The reason for this is that I love music. A lot. However, when I listen to music that I know well and that has lyrics, it's hard for me not to get caught up in singing or analyzing the song that's playing. When I listen to calmer instrumental music, I can listen and enjoy it without getting too distracted. This allows me to focus fully on my endeavor.

Today, I put some Rachmaninoff on my Spotify. It was relaxing and intellectually stimulating, and fit the bill just right. As I focused on my endeavor, I kind of forgot about the music. I knew it was playing, but was so focused and had it quiet enough that it didn't register in my mind that Spotify was even still on. However, Spotify is catty and jealous and craved my attention so much.

If you're familiar with Spotify, you know how it works: you sign up and can listen to any music they have in their expansive library for free. The caveat, however, is that with the free version, they play commercials from time to time to offset costs. These commercials come at supposedly arbitrary intervals, but realistically right when you're getting most into the music and least want them. This was no exception in my narrative. With me having forgotten about the music almost entirely, Spotify viewed this as the perfect time to recapture my attention. My peaceful Sunday focus was obliterated by a commercial, which, for some reason, had to be played at a volume that was much louder than the volume at which the music was playing. And I suppose it wouldn't have been that bad if that were the only problem; I probably would've simply been startled and gone back to work. But it was also the word that started said commercial, and therefore the word that jarringly snatched me from my peaceful, cynosural zen:

constipation

Imagine being completely focused in peace and quiet and thinking you're alone, when all of a sudden someone sneaks up behind you and says in a monotone, matter-of-fact voice, "constipation." Experience my experience. And as if that weren't enough, I was stuck there—frozen in horror, still stunned from surprise, only able to sit there helplessly as I was aurally assaulted by some hussy going on about constipational discomfort and why I needed relief. Congratulations, Spotify. You've got my attention. I don't need relief. Constipation is not matter-of-fact. You know nothing about my needs, or my bowels. Plus, your commercial and its tactics were startling enough that any bowel obstruction I may have had previously would've been resolved on the spot. Maybe you should've thought this one through a little better, hmm? Keep your vociferous constipation to yourself from now on, thanks.