And Here's to You, Doctor Robbins

The gifts have been mailed, and bless the postal employee. When we got to the post office, there was a line out the door of people trying to mail packages. I told Roomie that I expected to be there until the office closed forty minutes later. Ah, but I had severely underestimated the l33t ninja processing skills of the veteran postal worker. Dude was a machine(maybe his shiny, bald head was a solar panel for an awesomeness machine.). Weigh, stamp, process. Weigh, stamp, process. We were at the counter in five minutes, and out the door eight minutes later despite our four parcels--two for international shipment--and one card. I salute you, o, mighty USPS Shifu of stamp and sort, and never again shall I snigger at your knee-high socks.

( Minor SPOILERS for CSI 1210--Genetic Disorder )

Keep the Wheel Spinning

Life and fandom are quiet at present, and so am I. I'm posting this simply to keep up the habit and keep ennui at bay. If I didn't make a concerted effort to post as close to daily as possible, then I would lapse into utter inertia, and this journal would fall into sad disuse. Not because I lost my love of preserving my thoughts in virtual amber, but because I forgot it. I have a habit of getting distracted by ten thousand worries, most of them overblown or imaginary, or of being sucked into a dreadful lassitude. Posting will take too much effort or make me tired, I reason, and then proceed to stare vacantly at the television for hours or pace aimlessly between the living room and sunroom, considered multiple hobbies and engaging in none. The surest way to combat this is to force myself to write even when I think I don't want to. Most of the time, I quickly rediscover the joy of doing, the quiet zeal of creating and imagining and making it whole upon the screen. If, after half an hour, I still feel dull-witted, I close the window and pick up a book instead and try again later.

I don't miss grinding over dry, endless theses for university courses or miss regurgitating well-worn theories onto paper and underpinning them with quotes plucked from journals and periodicals and duly cited, but I do miss the mental stimulation university offered, the critical thought it required. I miss the mental calisthenics; crossword puzzles are nice, but they're water aerobics for geriatrics when compared to the advanced gymnastics of an upper-level philosophy course. Not long ago, I looked into courses at a nearby community college, but I have no interest in Typing I or ability for Shop or Agricultural Safety, and I have no need of Beginning Composition. If I ever move to a university town again, then I plan to enroll in German classes for the simple joy of it.