Spin You're born, then you die. The time in between is called "#life." Its pattern isn't hard to predict: #life is a series of long gradual changes punctuated by short, exciting changes. For me, the most languid periods cry out for change. They demand it. They tease with opportunities and the scent of risk. They take me aside and say, "change may be past due, but it's not too late." Oh, and on Friday I got fired.

Hooked Since I last wrote, I've fulfilled two items on my to-do list: Breakfast for my wife (twice), and called parents and grandmother. I thought the third item would be the easiest, but I was wrong. I enjoy walking. I love hiking. Carrying my own weight rather than a sense of urgency is therapeutic in ways no medicine can match. It may not be a national park, but I walk five minutes to work. There are 1,440 minutes in a day. So why don't I dedicate 30 of them to an evening stroll? # Routine Most days after I work, I come home to someone who needs me like I need her. Bottom line, she needs to get out, so we go. When we get back it's time to kick back, clean up, do a few chores, catch up on reading. Although sometimes we watch videos on the 'net, we banned television long ago. I stopped buying books a while back. My ukulele sits in a corner. Why can't I find time to walk? # Relief Months' ends can be stressful. Bills and rent make me anxious, a worry that becomes its own preoccupation. But twice a month I get a reprieve. I never see paper stubs or cash. Rather, I see digits change on my bank's website. As I push buttons to move them around, I feel powerful. Watching my credit card return to zero provides immense satisfaction. Debt? Haha! Anxiety builds for two weeks. Then — paycheck! Ahhh. The sense of well-being, of instant relief, is therapeutic in ways no medicine can match. # More If I don't work late, freelance occupies my evenings. When I take someone important to me out, she reads to the sound my my laptop's clacking keyboard. Though sporadic, being paid based on the quality of my work is gratifying. PayPal and a little ego boost. Ahhh. What's wrong with that? And every month, I crave walking a little less.

Prior Priorities I needed an old file, and being a good Citizen of the Digital Age I called up my archives from last year. My whole world appeared: The mess of files on my desktop, the music I’d recently bought but hadn’t sorted, projects I had long forgotten. I had different taste in wallpaper. I double-clicked the to-do list on a whim. “Send client files by noon.” “Rent due.” “Fix client files by EBD.” “Scrub bathtub.” “Staff meeting 8am.” This was important enough for me to write down? Close archives. New text file. “Call parents. Then call grandmother. Just because.” “Play 30 minutes music on an instrument, not an iPhone.” “Make good on promise to read sibling’s fanfic.” “Write a fanfic my own. Limber up for NaNoWriMo.” “Take a walk. Make it a habit.” “Make breakfast for wife.” Saved for next year.

In My Head I can write poetry. I look forward to participating in an exciting event. I play like both Rodrigo AND Gabriella. Clients come to me with questions, not instructions. I have the time and money to travel. Someone important to me looks forward to waking up in the morning. From 11p.m. to 9a.m. car alarms are only audible to their owners. At the age of ten, I traded hindsight for foresight. I do not stutter on the telephone. I can make someone important to me laugh. I am paid to exercise outdoors an hour a day to balance getting paid to sit on my butt under florescent lights for eight. I did not take last place in a company hula-hoop contest after two beers and what they promised me was only Jell-O. I bought Microsoft in 1989 and Apple in 1999. Someone important to me does not live in the grip of a black dog.

Test Pattern, Please Stand By My name is Ben. I'm taking steps to change my introverted nature. I blog, I tweet, I'm attempting a journal. But this is my attempt to mix it all. A diary in public, a personal article stream. Will I last? *shrug* So far, all I can say is hello world, I'm me.