Carpe diem. A cliche, short, and foreign way to express the fact that we all die and should probably start doing the stuff that counts sooner than later.

I am a textbook underachiever. I say a lot of things and don't always (more often not) live up to my intentions. I see little slogans on Pinterest (yes, Pinterest) that people have saying things like "It's not your belief that counts, it's your behaviour" and I think to myself, you know what, Pinterest, you're right. This summer more than ever I have been enjoying tuning out and doing nothing rather than, well, the opposite. Usually I take a few weeks off from school and then dive into reading the things I want. I even made a list a few posts back. I've completed one of those books, mostly because I had been borrowing it for about half a year and felt bad about not giving it back. I'm going to be teaching this fall and want to do much more than just survive. Instead of re-reading books and jotting down notes I've been re-watching episodes of LOST on Netflix.

Nice.

If someone were to ask me which word describes my present state of being, tonight I'd be honest enough to appropriately reply. Stagnant. I am an old pond with scum built up on top that smells. Is it the pond that smells, or the scum? Nobody knows (somebody knows).

I've had plenty of occurrences that have made me aware of this bog that I'm in. Telephone conversations with my Dad. My own brain, believe it or not. Even today's sermon at church had strong themes of seizing the day. Clear the clutter. Spend time in quiet. Make time. All things I've been shying away from, watery eyes glossing over the mild headache brewing in the back of my moldy brain as I stare into the iPad watching a show that I know the ending to.

I came home to tell Daniel that in our new home we should make our living space upstairs not include a TV. Why should a TV be the centre of the living room? Why should all couches point there? Why should the dining-room table be a spot to house unwanted flyers?

I come home to tell Daniel a lot of things. How stupid human beings are. How people don't treat those stupid human beings like human beings. How living with purpose really comes down to just loving and doing, and then not loving or doing. My last post, to sum it up, basically says that I wish humans were plants because I could accept them for what they are and could love them more easily. Yikes. But people suck and the young-adult small group seems lame (sharing? Praying? Planning to make a difference and serve others?) and even though I am no less than 80% happier when I'm surrounded by nature I can wait the two or five years it takes to live out there and not make the time to lay on top of bugs with my head on a rock feeling the Earth spin.

I'm even considering getting a tattoo. Of an old fashioned alarm clock. The numbers would be replaced with the letters N, O, and W, repeating over and over. A kind of vow to stop being a frog-filled stagnant pond. Feel free to leave comments stating whether or not this is a valid idea, although I probably won't take them into consideration, because if you haven't heard, I don't really care that much about human beings, yourself included, even though I'd like to. 

You probably expect me to make a kind of vow including the words "appreciation" and "change" at the end of this post. Nope. Tonight is all about self-pity and inward waling while enjoying some local talent at Norwood downtown. Come on by, if you happy to read this post within the next ten minutes. Donations go to Carmichael Outreach.