Today at lunch I bought a Pregnancy Journal. I figure someday our little bundle of joy will want to know how sick he/she made me. Besides, as sea-sickish as my experience has been so far, I'm sure someday I'll want to remember it with fondness, and I never remember anything I don't write down.
That's part of why I started this blog - I want to remember this kind of in-between phase of my life as something more than 597 11-hour workdays. (That's 6567 hours of my life... Frightful) I'm fighting like mad to remain a remotely interesting person. I have to remind myself that I was once the person who loved Moroccan food, had 12 Shakespeare monologues memorized at one time, introduced dozens of people to Kieslowski, went to the British War Museum by myself (against the rules) because nobody would go with me and I wasn't about to miss it, kept a journal of interesting people I saw on the subway, managed to produce a Korean film for a Director who couldn't speak English, ran the 2 most successful years of BYU's Final Cut film festival, hopped on a plane to Orlando because there was a chance I could get an internship, gave away 3 books of Mormon to people I respected(scared me to death), came up with a viable theory about postmodern suture (In Amelie) , and did my darndest to keep my nuclear family together through at least 5 major crises.
Now I sit at a desk and answer phones. Is it any wonder I feel I've become anti-climactic?
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