I have made several false starts now, trying to write something. This may have something to do with the hour (12:20 a.m.), and the variety of demi-thoughts that it produces, but more likely, I am just out of practice. In any case, I shall try to establish the facts:
- It is summer. It has been, arguably, for over two months now, and there are less than two months of it left.
- I am now 21. This is a recent development.
- I have too little to show for the time I spend on the computer.
- I miss the company of my friends. Many of them are far from here.
- I like the air, and the greenness of the leaves, and the heat. I do not mind the insects, although I kill them, here and there. (Perhaps they mind me.)
- I know how to change a moped tire, how to fill and cap beer bottles, how to declare and initialize a variable, and how to fold a written letter.
- I do not know enough.
- I want to be in love with something, but I am not quite there yet.
- My stomach bothers me more often than it should. I am abusing it somehow, perhaps.
I am content to be uncertain about things, for now. This may soon change.