H to the um

I was chatting with my good friend Matt last night and he made the comment that my life is much more full than his. I thought about this. Thought about what my days tend to look like: Wake up. Get out of bed. (Two very different activities, I assure you.) Toothpaste on the brush. So. Scrub. (Sorry...) Dash to catch a bus for work -or- break my fast to NPR and conversation with Clive. Work or avoid it. (This applies equally to weekdays or weekends.) Trawl the web. Go home. Think about working out. (I've been trying to make this easier with a bit of old-school happiness. Which might eventually help me get through my massive Netflix que...) Work on Clive's mum's Christmas present. Dinner. (Verb(s) implied.) Go to bed.

This really doesn't seem like much. I spend so much more time thinking about what I'm not accomplishing, and all of this...

But I'm happy. I'm not content, which is good, since I dread contentment which leads almost directly to complacency (I've seen it happen. Not pretty.) which in turn leads to apathy, which is actually lethal. Eyes are on the horizon, from small things like figuring out how to use the pretty drop spindle I got at the Ren Faire and the game I'm plotting planning for my friends to big things like grad school. Life will not be like this beyond June.

For the time being, however, I'm happy. Good conversations with good people. Catching up on reading material. Breathing. Knitting.

I don't want to be here forever, but for the time being I've no wish to complain.