I haven't been writing much lately. I haven't been reading much lately either. I haven't been sleeping well lately and it's not because of the squirrels in our attic or the pretzel-like configuration my partner, my dog, and I make when we tuck in for the night.

It's all tied up in this constant anxiety I have that I'm not making something. I work, I attend class, I work on assignments for class, and I drive to and from places where my attendance is taken. After analyzing the data, I found that about 87% of my current life is spent in one of those places, commuting, or sleeping. Between it all, there's just 13% where I can finish my taxes, get fitted for a wedding, get my oil changed, see my parents, bathe my dog, or enjoy a few hours with my partner.

It's a compulsion, making things. I sit down at my iMac not because there is anything in particular that needs to get done, but because something has to get done for the world to be okay. When I log in, I aimlessly open tabs and programs while I wait for my brain to tell me what the plan is. There's never any blueprints, just a vague feeling that the materials are here and they need to be assembled or else...

I'm on Spring break now for a few more days. Mae has work, so I've got plenty of time to myself throughout the day. My goals were to finish the chores that have been piling up over the past few weeks, complete a few assignments to give myself some breathing room when the semester resumes, and to get back to basics. What the latter means is ambiguous even to me. I do know that I want to write more. I haven't really written anything of substance in a year and a half. I know that reading ties in here. I write more when I read more and I haven't finished a book since Gene Wilder died.

I'll tell you what though, I've certainly purchased books since Alzheimer's took Leo Bloom. My shelves are bursting and my Barnes & Noble membership has been twice renewed. Whenever the mood strikes, I think "Yes, but first..." and then I'm down a rabbit hole of CSS tricks or Beatles Bootlegs. It never fails.

Digression is eight tenths of the process here, so I suppose it's okay to mention that thanks to a combination of Merlin Mann programs I've been listening to, I was sent into my yearly Beatles deep-dive a few months early. Normally my Fabsession starts when it's a little warmer, but last year's Sgt. Pepper's remixes were calling and I found some nifty books at the aforementioned brick and mortar. I've actually been reading those, but I haven't kept the streak going long enough to call it a comeback.

This post was the result of the hunger to make something, but it came out as a late dessert. I logged in with the intention to write something at about 6:00PM yesterday. It's 1:55AM now and what I have to show for the time spent are three Letterboxd entries and the new site layout you see before you now. My fingers were itching to type and my mouse navigated to my Squarespace admin panel, but I was getting tired with the old layout. It was a reminder of a time when I took this blog more seriously than it deserved and it needed to be changed before anything else could be done. Goodbye steely blue and slate, hello hamburger.

I hate nothing more than a podcast or a blog post that reminds you that it's the first one published in a while. It peeves me to no end when apologies are made to an unseen audience because it assumes that there is an audience left to begin with. I've seen my social media interactions decrease and my page views fall steadily over the last few years. Content is king and my blog is no empire. I'm not sure how royal it ever was to begin with, but it's surely a sad fiefdom now.

I'm not mad about that. I've given up entirely on what motivated me through my first round of college. This analogy lacks the green icon on your local bistro's menu, but the music industry is a lot like a packing house and if you don't stop moving, you'll quickly be hung up solid with the rest who couldn't cut it. No no, I prefer warmer air. What irks me is that I let something I was once good at spoil with the rest of it all. When I left UTG, when I stepped away from Substream, when Variable Bitrate burnt out, I had no reason to write. I suppose still don't have a reason, or to write is a reason in and of itself, but it feels good just to do it. It's weird how there's always something from Dig Up The Dead that relates, but here we are. I'll end with this sentiment from Chris:

Well God is dead and there are no good reasons I should sing
But I still do it anyway, yeah, I am singing all the same

Mae said I should keep a journal and let her know where I keep it so that she can read it. This should do.