About two weeks ago, I thought I had reached the midpoint of this blog. I somehow committed myself to the idea that June 15th, the middle of the month at the middle of the year, equaled the middle of the year itself. Turns out, not so, as a few people dutifully informed me. One guy helpfully (?) said, "Well, at least you don't have a bigger readership." Great, so I'm stupid and unpopular. Great.
But today, since it actually is the official midway point of this year (and I'm certain of it this time), I am tempted to celebrate by just referring to that post I had written back then and be done with it. After all, its sentiments still hold true.
Instead, though, I took myself out to frozen yogurt. Sounds random, I know, and it is, especially since I never do things like that. I eat Frosted Mini-Wheats every morning with skim milk, bring a sandwich for lunch (tuna or assorted lunch meats), and eat a banana in the afternoon. No more or less.
So shortly after lunch, I walked a few blocks down Market Street to the same frozen yogurt place my boss took my department to for my birthday. As I filled my cup with cubed kiwi pieces and mandarin oranges atop the Hawaiian Punch-flavored "fro-yo," as the cool kids call it, I thought to myself, "How odd. It's not my birthday anymore, and I'm not celebrating anything. Why am I having frozen yogurt?"
By the time I got back to my office, I had walked the streets of the Financial District for 20 minutes, broke a slight sweat under the warm sun, even managed to lift my head a few times and notice the clearest blue sky, no doubt turning invisibly above all the windows and rooftops of the city.
In those 20 minutes, I thought of how half a year has gone by and I have since stopped trying to remember all that I've written here; I practically forget the contents of each day's post as soon as I publish it. I wondered what I would feel when January 1, 2012 comes and goes and I no longer have to write, no longer have to think of things to write, to feel nervous as the day rolls on and I have yet to develop even an idea.
Oscar Wilde once said, "The anxiety is unbearable. I only hope it lasts forever."
The frozen yogurt was pretty tasty, more than I had expected it to, more because it was unexpected. I wanted it to last, too, a little while longer.
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