Hop to it, risk-taker

Has it really been more than an entire year sans adventures of Sparky? Am I lazy or what? Too much Hulu-watching and bike-riding, I suppose, but this is ridiculous. In an era of chronicling one's every breath, it's rather silly that I don't maintain a blog, a log, a chronicle of what's going on so that my future progenitors may read their mother's thoughts on some microchip installed in their frontal lobe.

So today, children (well, me, really, because who the hell else reads this thing? So I guess I could have written "chronicling one's every fart" instead), we shall learn about TAKING RISKS and how I used to be much better at that but I now suck at it. My bravery is unending when it comes to traveling solita around the world and trying new foods, but I can't seem to engage with the more banal stuff of talking to a cute man or hunting for prospective futures. Those futures, though, are what gets me. They could be anything - living in Japan, fishing, or working at the WHO in Uganda.  I guess those particular examples are a bit far-fetched but the point is, I'm only 32 (for another few months), I'm finished with graduate school, I am healthy and curious and I don't have a mortgage or children. Doesn't this mean that I am free to shape my future, try new things, do whatever? And yet I feel nailed to the floor, comfortable and even complacent in the decadent apartment that I don't own, the job that I enjoy (despite being woefully underpaid) and the friends that are wonderful company. So why bother lifting a finger to do anything other than craft night or blogging? I think because it's expected of me - I should, I can, therefore I...won't? Don't wanna? Am afraid / anxious / nervous / bored? I like routine. I like spontaneity, too, but only to an extent. So the point of this post is...oh yes, to chronicle. Hopefully one day I'll look back to this and think, "what a dimwit." Or maybe, "how so very human of her, that old self of mine."