Simple Evening.

I'm not all-together sure there's a huge difference between being independent and socially pathetic. Exhibit A: Me, yesterday night, sitting solo at Tims eating a chicken salad sandwich after getting off work. The time: 10:54 pm, and my big plans for the muggy August night were to finish the sandwich and go work out at Good Life. Perhaps read a few pages out of the Treasury of Great American Poetry.

Is this sad? I was invited to go out and do the same old same old...but I chose that. I was there, and I was happy. Walt Whitman says it best.

I know I am August,

I do not trouble my spirit to vindicate itself or be understood,

I see that elementary laws never apologize.

(I reckon I behave no prouder than the level I plant my house by, after all)

I exist as I am, and that is enough.

If no other in the world be aware I sit content,

And if each and all be aware I sit content.

One world is aware and by far the largest to me, and that is myself,

And whether I come to my own today, or in ten thousand or ten million years,

I can cheerfully take it now, or with equal cheerfulness I can wait.

-Walt Whitman (Song of Myself, 20)

I worked, I ate, I jogged. It was a good night. I don't know if this means I'm a little sad, or just really easy to please, and I'm not particularly bothered either way!

-Jessica

(OH. And it was raining and LIGHTNING like nobodies business yesterday all through the night...perfection.)