I wasn't happy with what I just wrote. It felt more like a monologue and not a conversation. I must have been influenced by Ernest Hemingway's writing technique about being direct and forceful. Or something like that, I wasn't paying too much attention. Oh, I think it was: write about what something is, not about what it isn't.

 Too authoritarian for me! It's certainly appropriate for journalism and fiction-writing, but whatever it is I'm doing, whatever it is I'm doing here, is not neatly in either of those categories. 

I am afraid. I'm afraid that I need to feel afraid or else I'm not interested in what I'm doing. It's like I need a sword of Damocles hanging over for the most mundane task. Everything needs to feel like an adventure. The problem being it needs to feel like an adventure. Dammit, everything's an adventure. I just forget.

Last week, I put off filling my gas tank until it was almost empty. Why? Because I wanted to remember what it was like when I used to have no choice, when I'd be walking into the gas station with all the change I had been able to scrounge up so I could put in another half-gallon and make it in to work and back. 

I miss thinking about every moment. 

But did I, even then? I miss feeling like I thought about every moment. Which honestly makes me think I wasn't being so smart if I had to think about every moment. And maybe I'm just different now.