And the weekend begins.

I am scheming both ways. I don't know my own head. I can't wait to go to work for some very sly reasons, but I'm waiting for something else, too.

By the way, a muni train full of rowdy teenage sports fans kind of makes me feel like I never, ever, ever want to have kids.

I am exercising a bit too much. I really need to cut back on it. Four hours in one day is a bit too much after less than 6 hours of sleep.

I walked from Van Ness and Post along Jackson, then meandered to Fisherman's Wharf and down Stockton between lunch and work this afternoon. I live in an incredible city, and I'm finally doing what I intended to do back in middle school--to explore it on foot until my feet hurt, only it wasn't my feet, it was my muscles. I live in an amazing city, though. It was incredibly warm today, which gave it a guilt-free, summery feeling. Then, during the half hour before work, I lay down on the cool, soft grass beneath a tree abloom with flowers, while I let the breeze and the quiet wash over me gently. It was at that precise moment, as my eyes traced the outlines of the leaves and branches against the deep blue of the sky, that I thought to myself: This is why I am alive.

Such moments are always fleeting. I guess you've got to grab on to what you can.