Welcome back, internet.
What's that you say? You are surprised I am beginning another blog post by apologizing for the time that has elapsed since the last? You shouldn't be, that's pretty much how things roll here at quiche of the week. Taking more than a year off at a time is fairly par for the course as well.
I suppose it would be best to bring you up to speed, my treasured (yet woefully uninformed) reader. Here I am in the good old US of A, having taken leave of my Oriental ambitions. I even managed to graduate college at some point and find (kind of) gainful employment (though, talking about my job specifically could lead to federal charges (it's true, but it also makes my job sound so much cooler than it actually is (oh yeah baby nested parenthesis are back, you know it (in a big way)))). While my mystery-employment is indeed somewhat gainful, I'm not compelled to write much—or think much, especially compared to the academic boot camp that is the University of Chicago.
I've been reading on the train (you will hear about the train, my fair reader, oh how you will hear about the train), but I can still feel my brain-muscles atrophying each and every day. My poor brain is like a pallid nerd sequestered in his familial basement, his fragile frame losing substance by the day as he contemplates the merits of Kirk, Picard, et al (That's really the best analogy I can come up with. (Why yes, by having failed to prove my point, I have proven my point. That just happened)).
Aaaaaaanyway, the immediately obvious solution to this is to think about things. If only it were so simple! I am easily distracted, and the world of today is overrun with distractions. Unless compelled to organize and record them in a lasting form, my thoughts are as ephemeral and inconsequential as a third-party in the American electoral system.
“Well,” says the hypothetical person giving me obvious solutions, “Why don't you write some of these so-called 'thoughts' (sheesh, there is no need to be so sarcastic and hurtful, hypothetical person) in a journal?” This is still wholly insufficient, however, as I am nothing if not a member of 'Generation Me.' The thought of a journal which only I would read—barring biographers digging about my things after I become incredibly wealthy and famous (at which point I would destroy it and fabricate a new one wholesale anyway (in order to manufacture an elaborate and awesome past (think Teddy Roosevelt meets Han Solo)))—makes me somewhat queasy. So I will shout it into the void of the internet, and one hopes that this will give me the will to continue this endeavor.
What, however, shall I write about? I am no longer even doing uninteresting things somewhere interesting. I'm still cooking, but everyone knows the first incarnation of this blog was pretty bad and showcased nothing but my general failure to produce remotely appetizing food.
Anyway, I guess I'll write about stuff, things, and junk. I'll even do my best to get a laugh or two out of whatever unfortunate souls happen to stumble across this small gas-station-and-wendy's exit on the vast and erotica-laden information superhighway. I will also do my best to revive totally obsolescent terms, such as “information superhighway.” Wish me luck, please! I'll see you next week (or in two, at which point I will open by apologizing)!
