Think Thank Thunk

I've got a bunch of incomplete blog entries piling up, but never fear, that doesn't mean I've stopped thinking... all the time... about everything. Just ask the boy who popped into my life when I wasn't looking (we'll call him G... and I bet he was wondering when he'd show up here), who gets quite a chunk of it these days. It's just all been sort of big things I've been thinking about that are impossible to contain in a post. I need to get over it and just be OK starting threads that I never tie up... maybe over spring break I'll try that out. For now it's finals week and, despite being not exceptionally stressed or taxed this time around, it's hard to muster up the energy to do anything other than compulsively check my email and move the piles of clothes in my room (clean but too lazy to fold, not clean but might still wear again tomorrow, skanky from Ultimate) around in little circles, from the chair to the bed to the floor and back again.

I like thinking. But every once in a while I go through a phase where I get frustrated about being a thinker, and wish I could chill out a little. I was home for my brother's birthday last year, sitting around in the garage he built, listening to him talk with his friends about building things, and towing things, and fixing cars, and it felt so.... tangible. They make stuff, and break stuff, and fix stuff, and it made me really jealous. I sit around with my friends talking about esoteric things that don't even exist. Or, they exist, but you can't see them or touch them or measure them. I know I am who I am, and I've learned to work with it, and I suppose my chosen profession is my way of putting my proclivity for relentless thinking to good use. But my brother is building a house now, and sometimes I just want to fly there and pound some nails, and learn about drywall and how to drive his excavator. That just sounds really cool. In the absence of being able to do that right now, maybe that is what Ultimate does for me... running around after a piece of plastic for two hours shuts down my head and roots it back in my body.

And since if I go any further with this, I'll just be thinking more... I'll just stop there.