Well, I guess I’ve resisted long enough.
Here I am, writing my very own, employer-mandated blog. Romantic, isn’t it?
It’s not that I’m uncomfortable rambling about myself and my random musings to anyone who will listen. That’s a trait I’ve been grappling with since Mrs. B, my first grade teacher, wrote in the comments section of my report card, “Amy just bubbles over with excitement. Keep a lid on it, Amy!”
No, the pouring out of every minute detail onto the page or into the ears of strangers is not the problem, as evidenced by a closet full of diaries, journals and notebooks dating back to not long after Mrs. B tried to tamp down my tendencies. The real issue, which Mrs. B and every subsequent teacher, along with my parents, husband, and a handful of ex-boyfriends and employers will attest to:
I don’t like being told what to do.
Nonetheless, look at that, I’m already doing it. And I’d like to think that as I get older, it gets easier to stop arguing about every little detail, and occasionally shut up and just go with it. So here I go.
Reading: What Sticks. And I’ve been blabbing about it to anyone who will stand still long enough.
Watching: 30 Rock. Oh, welcome back to my television, Tina Fey!
Insisting on: Eight hours of sleep.
Obsessing over: The old people in “Young at Heart.” I know I am going to bawl through that movie, and I can’t wait!
Resisting: Twitter. Another employer-mandated assignment.
Attempting: To get back into running. Less than 6 months ago, I finished a 10k. Last night, I wheezed and burned (and not in the Nike commercial way) through 2.5 agonizing miles. Sad.
Booing: People’s refusal to put their f-ing smart phones down for more than 6 minutes at a time. This is more than booing, really. It’s maniacal, wide-eyed, spit-flying ranting.
Celebrating: It’s Friday, 84 degrees and sunny, and there’s a beer is roughly 7 hours in my future.