Have you ever watched things explode into a fiery rage? No hypotheticals here. I’m talking about a three-thousand-degree fire that melts thousands of pounds of metal in red and blue firey rage. Like Trogdor, only better.
Yep, there. I said it.
Better than Trogdor.
It was like magic and burn your face off heat got married and then had a fire breathing dragon baby that ate all the metal in the world.
Wait. Is that where Trogdor comes from? I’ll email Strong Bad and find out.
I took a tour of the Nucor Seattle Steal Mill and it was one of the most epic things I’ve seen in recent history. I loved it so much that I had this sudden and strong regret that I didn’t become an engineer of some kind. I was always really good at math and had to work studiously at English to gain any kind of mastery. Math hardly took a second thought.
The irony is not lost on me.
I think I’m seeing a light at the end of the stress tunnel. Something that I’ve struggled to find in recent weeks. I’m looking forward to an extra-long weekend, spending time with loved ones, and not wasting any of my precious fucks stressing about things out of my control. Like apartment complexes catching fire (yes, mine did), neighbors dying (yep, that too), and the general dread of making scary adult decisions (because, duh).
I’ve been toying with the idea of joining a gym here in Seattle. My hang-up is that I’d also like to move and I’m not sure I want to commit to a gym location near me if I might not be living in the same place in the next few months. I do have a year-long Woodland Park Zoo membership and I keep thinking I should make it a point to visit more often. Parking is like $8 a day but I spent that this morning on coffee and would likely spend more on a gym membership. Plus there are lots of amazing parks here. I think it’s just about committing to getting out more. Especially now that the weather seems to be leveling out. I can’t wait for it to warm up just a bit more.
All of this adulting has my brain writing again. Which, let’s be honest, is the best thing ever. I’m finding those hooks and diving face-first into what can only be described as my best place. I am my best when writing. When I feel productive. When I feel like my words make a difference and maybe someday they will make an impact. The back pocket dream has always been to be a writer. I forgot that for a few months. It’s time to make it my priority again.