Sometimes I feel this overwhelming crushing sensation that’s partially in my head and partially in my heart. It feels like time is slipping by too fast, and has been slipping away pointlessly for some time.

It feels like I need to catch up, to get doing stuff Right Now, to make my mark on the world as soon as possible, but it also feels like it might be too late already.

Sometimes I get this feeling when I’m working at a show where the exhibitors have creative or crafty items. I see all the things they’re selling, and I see how they’ve done it — they’ve taken the plunge and are making and selling their Stuff. They had enough confidence to actually go out on a limb and make it happen. And I see things that I could have done myself, and things I wish I could do, and things I can’t believe people pay money for. And it makes me sad, because I don’t know if I’ll have the courage to ever make that leap.

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I was just sifting through some old emails and came across this. (If you must know, I was looking for crap to forward to Noob because when he has no work to do he sits at his desk staring at his keyboard and it really freaks me out. Seriously, this dude needs to learn how to kill time.)

A Short Fairy Tale

Once upon a time, a girl asked a guy, “Will you marry me?”

The guy said “No” and the girl lived happily ever after and went shopping, drank martinis with friends, always had a clean house, never had to cook, had a closet full of shoes and handbags, stayed skinny, and was never farted on.

The end.

(I have so many items to add to that list, starting with ‘never had to make mindless chatter with in-laws’ and ’spent her money on craft supplies and books instead of Xbox games and barbecue utensils,’ but that would go on for a very long time, so I’ll just leave it as it was originally sent to me (from my sister, by the way).)

(But maybe that will be a future post.)

Today I overcame a big fear.

Well, not really a big fear. And I’m not sure I totally overcame it. But I took a step, and I guess that’s good. And enough.

I ate alone in a restaurant with a folding menu.

I’m doing a show in Portland, so I’m eating on the expense account money. This is usually a problem, because I’m afraid to eat alone in a real restaurant that serves real food, so I end up getting fast food, which is bad. But I determined before this trip that I would bite the bullet and sit by myself at a table in a restaurant that had a folding menu instead of a light-up menu. A place that took your order at the table rather than at the counter.

And today I did it. Granted, it was Denny’s, but it still counts.

Next step will be to dine solo in a restaurant whose folding menu is not laminated. I’m toying with the idea of trying the hotel restaurant, but I’m not sure if I want to go overboard all in one day.

Plus, I’ve been annoyingly un-hungry lately. The thought of eating is vaguely repellant most of the time, but I know I have to eat or I’ll get a huge headache. Or even worse, I feel hungry but at the same time feel like I’ll hurl if I eat anything. Sure, this is better than the times when I’m famished every hour, at least better for my waistline, but it’s so frustrating.

Maybe I’m just un-hungry when it comes to the options I have available to me. If I had a personal chef to whip up exactly what I wanted, I’m sure I’d think of something I felt like eating. But when I imagine the kinds of foods I’ll likely find at various establishments within walking distance, blech.

Specifically, I want an Outback salad. And an Outback baked potato. And some Spaghetti Factory broccoli. And maybe some cream of mushroom soup, from a can.

But I digress. At some point this evening, I’ll have to decide on a place to eat, and I don’t wanna. But maybe I’ll have the courage to sit there by myself and eat rather than getting it to-go.

One of these days, I’m going to get a taco from one of those silver buses that are always parked in gas station parking lots advertising their 79-cent tacos.

I’m going to eat that taco, and I’m going to live to tell about it.

But that’s not all.

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Having been blessed with a somewhat uncommon name, and a definitely uncommon spelling of it, I think about names sometimes. Especially when I’m desperate for blog fodder. I’m very aware of how other people’s names are spelled, and I make it a point to spell everyone’s names correctly. Actually, I make it a point to spell everything correctly. I’m not sure if that’s related to the weird name thing, or just a symptom of my OCD. Maybe a little of both.

So I have an affinity for people whose parents have sent them out into the world with an oddly spelled name. It’s like we’re all part of a little club. The knowing glances, the sympathetic nods, the secret handshake.

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