I've had the same prescription glasses for a little over two years now. A couple months ago, I noticed that the right ear piece was loose, and it wasn't long before it popped off completely. After two or three weeks, I finally stopped by a glasses place. They took one look at my glasses and informed me they didn't have the right parts and then referred me to a place called the "Eyeglass Hospital". They promised me that if they couldn't be fixed there, they couldn't be fixed anywhere.

Another week passed before I dragged myself there, and after about 20 minutes the gentleman told me that my options were simple: he couldn't fix them, so I could go to a jeweler who could take care of it. Barring that, he suggested I could try calling the place I purchased them. I opted for the latter, and they said I could mail them back and they could send them to the manufacturer to fix them. One of the prices you pay for designer sunglasses, it turns out, is proprietary parts.

Being pretty thoughtful about this whole thing, I decided it might be convenient to get a fresh prescription done before I send them in. That way I could have new lenses to go along with my freshly repaired frames. And being a pretty thoughtful procrastinator, I've let about two months pass since declaring that this would be my plan.

I can't think of any particular reason why I've let this amount of time pass. I've done the requisite Google searching and I've asked plenty of people if they recommend anyone. I have everything set to go, but for some crazy reason I haven't made any phone calls or even attempted to schedule an appointment. I realized today that it had nothing to do with wanting to find the right eye doctor, and everything to do with wanting to get the right prescription. Somewhere along the way, I've developed an irrational fear that I won't get the prescription that's just right for me right now. What's more irrational is that in lieu of even trying, I've just been using my broken glasses with their two-year-old prescription that doesn't do much for my changing eyes.

Maybe one of these days I'll finally get on that. One of these days.

In light of the recent news out of Newtown, I've been thinking a lot about what it means to be alive. My department had a holiday party last Saturday, and I brought my camera along for the occasion. I uploaded the photos to my computer today, and looking at them made me realize something: I love the people I work with, and I love that an excuse for a group dinner was filled with so much life. Even in those moments, I didn't realize how much fun everyone was having. It took me removing myself for a bit and looking at life through the lens of a camera to really make it clear to me.

Plates, wine glasses, strings of lights, silverware. All served as the backdrop for a scene now just a memory. It was my first time wielding my camera in front of a group of people, and my first time using it to really capture moments in time. The graininess of the shots bother me less than I imagined they would; I like the way it reminds me of what it felt like to be there. I like how the colors of clothes are changed by the soft lighting. I like seeing pictures of people laughing, or thinking, or clearly lost in thought or in conversation. I like these things more than simple smiles into the camera, because nothing was paused for the sake of a snapshot.

I see these moments and I cherish them. I think of the children whose lives were taken from them, and it takes my breath away. My heart goes out to all those touched by this tragedy.

I started writing on the internet in 2005. I had a lot on my mind, things I needed to say. I could have said them in a journal, but instead I posted my words for all the world to see. In retrospect, perhaps the reason I chose to do so was that I needed someone, anyone, to read what I had to say.

The words crawled out slowly, tepid at first but with increasing rapidity as they were read by more and more eyes. Those eyes became people, who in turn became friends. Those friends blossomed into friendships, and before long I was telling stories, regaling the web with things I saw that made me laugh or smile. The more stories were told, the more stories were sought out just so I would have new ones to tell. A voice was then lost in a void. A voice that thought about things, felt things, was drowned out by a voice that simply wanted to see things. Seeing was believing. But seeing is only one part of believing, and without thoughts or feelings, seeing is something else completely: boring.

It's a common enough theme when one writes on the internet. I've seen enough people come and go, and have observed the pattern in both my own writing and that of others. Somewhere along the way, I lost touch with my passion for writing. I got consumed with only one part of it, and some of its magic slipped away as a result.

I spend a good deal of my work day writing. The writing I do is cold, repetitive, clinical. In an effort to find my voice again, I've taken to journaling. I have a paper journal, which I use sparingly at this point, though mostly because I can't write with my hand fast enough to keep up with my brain. So I've been using some technology to help me out in that regard. I have written every single day since October 15th. I write about what I did each day, or things I felt, or dreams I had, or new ideas that occur to me.

I never keep track, but I would hazard a guess that I spend a minimum of 30 minutes to an hour per day writing. I write whatever comes to mind, in whatever sequence my brain produces it, and I never edit it. The beauty of writing like this is that it has gotten the words back out from my head and onto the screen (virtual paper, I suppose). I turn off most distractions: no TV, no music, no phone calls. I simply sit down and write.

This has bled over into other aspects of my life as well. Instead of trying to fill my every waking hour with some form of entertainment, I've given myself space and have just let my mind wander. Instead of staring at my phone while on the shuttle into work, I look out the window and watch the world go by. Instead of having music playing around me at all hours, I have embraced the silence. Instead of humming along, my thoughts are free to take me where they may.

I like this path I seem to have found. I see just how much I missed writing, and how happy I am to be doing so again. I realize how long I went without embracing my wandering mind, and how I missed it so. I feel more human, more alive, and more inspired than ever.

About a year and a half ago, I started on a journey of getting healthier. In that process, I've lost 50 pounds (and counting). I owe my success to three things: quitting sweets, quitting sodas, and Zumba. Last year at this time of year, I took a day off work to train to become a Zumba instructor. Zumba changed my life in a way I never expected. It helped me get fit, it helped me lose weight, and it helped me relieve stress. But best of all, it made me active, and enjoy being active, when I needed it most. One year later, I'm finally on the cusp of taking on my first classes. I spent the last year slowly eking my way into teaching. I'm pleased with the time I took to reach this point. Instead of jumping in, I first got the hang of doing one song, then slowly added one or two at a time until, after about eight months, I taught a full hour-long class. The more I teach, the more exhilarating I find it.

Tonight I stopped by Guitar Center, a store I don't particularly like because of the loudness and the less-than-friendly attitude of much of the staff. I have long loved music, and played both guitar and violin in what feels like a very different life. I used to imagine myself doing music for a living (okay, okay, high school me wanted to be a rock star), and when I lived in LA I was introduced to electronica music by certain awesome friends. I played with a few digital audio workstations, but didn't really take to it.

I realized a while back that I am not that different from a puppy; I find myself interested in all sorts of things, and want to do everything I find interesting and do it all at the same time. In that spirit, I realized that, with that approach, I was falling into the trap of the "swiss army knife" of endeavors. I'm not sure that's a real concept, but I'm making it one for the sake of this post. Basically, I was on track to become sort of good at many things. But what I wanted, and still want, is to be really good at these things.

With that in mind, I set aside my curiosity for music and focused on the things that were actually taking up my time. One of those things was photography. The other of those things was Zumba.

When I walked into the store today, I realized that I made the right choice. Instead of gazing longingly and thinking about wanting to know things I didn't know, I paid no mind to the music and focused on looking for speakers for my upcoming Zumba class. I realized that instead of wanting to know something about photography, I've actually gotten out there, sought out resources, and actually learned about photography. The energy and the effort is paying off.

I'm excited about actively pursuing an interest, and putting proper energy and time into it. I'm excited about my photos. I'm excited about teaching Zumba. I'm excited about getting ever more fit, and perhaps continuing my path of healthiness and weight loss.

I looked at an 800 watt speaker today that I thought might be a nice one to use for my Zumba classes. 800 watts is a lot. And I am a lot excited. 800 watts excited.

I've been watching the Olympics like it's my job every day. Which means that as soon as I get home from my real job during the day, I plop myself down in front of the television (something I do very rarely) and lose myself in the many colors of the world in all their athletic majesty. It's a good thing the Olympics happen only once every two years, because I always forget how quickly I go from zero to fangirl. I thought after swimming was done, I'd be good to go and return back to life as usual. But alas, I can't help myself.

I'm still sitting here in front of the TV, laptop on hand, working on things to keep life in order during the admittedly insane number of commercial breaks. The coverage may be subpar, and the commercials excessive, but I can't stay away. I barely understand half these sports, but I'm cheering everyone on regardless.

Keep it up, world, you're knocking my socks off. Literally.

I realized recently that I've been doing a lot of reading and a lot of thinking. I've thought about writing quite a bit, but as I read the other day, thinking about writing is not the same as writing. I enjoy spending time thinking about things, reviewing thoughts backwards and forwards, letting ideas and scenarios play out in my head. I remember when I first started blogging nearly seven years ago, how I marveled that I had finally found a place to express my inner self while still maintaining an outside self for appearance's sake. My blog, and the friends around the world I made as a result, helped me find the confidence in myself to come out. There was a whole world out there, I discovered, who accepted me exactly as I was. It was a powerful feeling, and a powerful motivator to write.

I remember doing many of the things new bloggers do. I made "startling" confessions. I wrote posts wherein I used the word "rambling" without a hint of irony. Before long, every life experience became something I could blog about. I wanted to tell stories about my life, things that I found amusing. This, I thought, was what a personal blog was all about.

When I moved away from home for graduate school, I wrote about my experiences. Writing about a terrible roommate situation helped me make it through that tough experience. I met people in my new city and I grew.

After some time, my focus shifted to school, and I put my love for writing on the back burner. I was busy trying to sustain myself, trying to work 30 hours every week and still maintain a full-time course load, plus clinics and internships. I barely had time to do homework, projects, timesheets, clinic notes, and manage my schedule. Besides, I figured, I had run out of stories to tell.

After graduating, I focused on my fellowship. I cultivated friendships. I set goals to improve my health. I drove all over the place. And the whole time, I didn't stop once to write about my experiences. I lived in every moment, and didn't stop to relive them in my head, forwards and backwards. I didn't stop to think about what things might mean.

I shared snippets instead, posting photos on my tumblr site and every once in a while writing fleeting posts about something going through my head. I've spent a great deal of time thinking about what happened to my love for writing, thinking that it had somehow escaped me. Thinking that the daily grind of life post-graduate school had lulled me into a comfort where I didn't feel compelled to express myself. The evidence was plain to see, I thought, with my neglected personal blog.

But as I looked at what I shared elsewhere, and what I shared here, I realized my love for writing still exists. I had simply taken leave, for a time, from a place that I let box me in. I started blogging because I could write about anything, and what I loved writing most of all was things I was thinking. Somewhere along the way, I got into a rut, thinking that I had to write stories and they had to be engaging, interesting and funny. I realize now that they have to be none of those things. They absolutely can be, but they don't have to be.

I've seen many of my favorite bloggers come and go, and leave behind a hobby that suits them because it becomes too pigeon-holed. I know that feeling, and have been fighting it lately. I like the ease of my life now, and how uncomplicated it is to not go looking for blog material. But I miss this place, and the joy I found in writing every day (even if I didn't click 'publish').

I want to find my roots. I want to let the sound of my computer keyboard be my music. I want my words to sing, and my thoughts to shine before me on the screen. I want to write.

Working in the full time world is challenging, to say the least. I've recently come to realize that when I'm not working, my free time is spent in other ways than it used to be. I used to be able to pore a good amount of time into learning code and managing this site and others, whereas lately I've fallen behind and am finding it hard to keep pace. I've been working on building my professional skills, focused on learning new ways to better treat my patients, and also build on my knowledge base. I once heard that graduate school doesn't teach you everything you need to know; that it actually just gives you the tools to learn what you need to know. I think there is something to that, given how little made sense to me until I started really seeing it. It could be that this is just the way I learn, but I'm not sure.

I borrowed the title of this post from a Calvin and Hobbes book. It seemed an apt description of my life these days. Since it's summer, Robert is off work and enjoying his vacation. When I used to work for the schools, we would spend days at the park enjoying a picnic lunch and maybe throwing a frisbee around. Since switching to the medical side of things, however, the notion of summer break is gone. In its place is a full day of work, followed by evenings out and about.

Today was a typical day off for me. I slept in til 9, then got up and before I knew it, we were out on the town. Once errands were done, we hit the pool, followed by a bike ride.

All that left me exhausted, so I'm sitting outside on the patio. There is a slight breeze blowing across my bare feet. Robert sits across from me, reading a book. Birds chirp from the tree nearby. An air conditioner provides a steady hum for an unlikely ambience.

I stop for the first time all day and think, wow, am I ever lucky. I never thought I could say this about moving home, but I feel a level of contentment like never before.

The days really are packed, and I love them this way.

When you only have one day off for your weekend, apparently it is possible to fill every hour of your day with something fun. Take today, for instance. I blocked it out as follows:

1. Drink a smoothie and watch Project Runway.
2. Shower and beautify.
3. Pick up a breakfast burrito and chow down while running errands.
4. Buy cool "film" from a car tinting shop to watch the eclipse.
5. Spontaneously go to the mall.
6. Unplanned shopping extravaganza!, In which fabulous new attire is attained.
7. Arrive at home and gather some clothes to donate.
8. Hop on my bike and explore the neighborhood trails for an hour.
9. Grab my camera and chair to sit outside on the grass and watch the solar eclipse.

Number 9 was marred only when a neighbor we'd never before seen joined us, large glass of wine in hand, and took the opportunity to drunkenly regale us with tales of her son's dreadful birthday party today.

There's a reason why I stopped at 9. Lucky the good part of the eclipse was over, because both Robert and I were more than happy to scurry away from the "I don't usually drink this much but they drove me to it" insane neighbor woman.

And, scene.

I was planning on being asleep right this very second, considering I'm on an airplane for the next three hours. But then I found out that this flight has wifi, and who am I to turn down the internet when it's right in front of me and I have legroom to spare because this flight is half-empty? I rest my case. Plus there's the fact that I've never used the internet while this high in the air, and thought it might be time to change that. On the first leg of this trip,I sat next to a flight attendant who was commuting to work, and we chatted the whole time about traveling and California. It was fun, and he tossed some of those drinks vouchers my way, so now I'm nursing an adult beverage and enjoying how little you have to drink in the air to get a nice buzz.

Because this flight has so few people on board, the staff has been more entertaining than usual. For instance, after takeoff, they offered snacks ”buffet” style, and set up a pile of pretzels at the front of the plane and watched them slide all the way to the back during the ascent. Despite being somewhat sophomoric, I've always wondered what that would look like, and I can't say I didn't enjoy the spectacle.

I'm surprised at just how awake I am right now, and also at just how active my mind is. I guess the steady hum of the airplane’s engine can be calming in its own way. I keep looking out the window and have been watching as the sun sets in the distance. I have always loved having a window near any workspace, and I really can't beat the view from up here. I keep trying to take pictures, but nothing does it justice, and these tiny windows are unfortunately quite dusty.

I hope that, during my lifetime, planes get larger windows, and maybe even see-through ceilings, because I would love to see the starry skies up close.

I like this vantage point, and I like this train of thought. After five months working without anything more than a sick day, this feels very much needed.

It feels good to pause, and to take some time to enjoy my thoughts. I should probably make it a point to do this more often.

If I could have any super power, I think I wouldn't mind the ability to create time. It's terribly cliche, I realize, to point out that there simply aren't enough hours in the day to get everything done, but it's currently something I find myself thinking about at the end of every day. As I've started to fall into a new routine, I've found myself missing elements of my old, pre-move-back-to-New Mexico one. Above all else, I've come to realize I am a creature of habit. The things I'm missing have almost nothing to do with geography (though I do miss the proximity to the ocean). Rather, it's all about the day to day.

I miss my old gym routine. I used to have a regular set of classes I attended, usually every Monday and Wednesday, and some Fridays. It balanced out my work life nicely.

I miss my friends a great deal. Fortunately, as my good friend Nico likes to remind me all the time, we live in the future. Keeping in touch with friends is a snap. Texting, email, video chat, phone calls... All are good ways to keep up with the people who matter. The things that I miss? Hanging out for dinner, watching RuPaul's Drag Race, cooking up a storm.

My new life, so far, is amazing. I wake up every day next to the man of my dreams. I have a job that I love, and enjoy the work I do. The "what" of my life right now is something I've worked very hard to reach. Now I just have to get the hang of the "how".

The mistake I seem to be making is that I'm not in the same place I used to be. I keep looking for something to replace what I used to have. I crave that familiarity. And even though I know it, I still find myself resisting the thought that I have to accept that it won't be the same, and that's perfectly okay.

I knew plenty of change would hit me with all this, I just didn't think I would find it so hard to let the change fully engulf me.

I have a nasty habit of overthinking things, something that I recently hinted at. A certain amount of this is fine, sure, but not when your line of thought is desperately self-defeating. My friend Ashley summed this up nicely:

I have this very simple narrative in my mind about how one accomplishes goals. You make up your mind to do it, then you start, then you kick some ass, then you high five everyone, and then you carry on feeling pretty damn good about yourself.

I frequently break down somewhere along the lines of the "getting started" part. I attribute much of this to growing pains. When I graduated with my interpreting degree in 2006, the thing I wanted, more than anything, was to just be good at it already. More than five years later, I realize that while it is frustrating to start at the beginning, it's worth it. Being a rookie is a good thing. The drive is there to want to be great, but there's only one way to get there. Nothing happens overnight.

Now that I've kick-started my second career, I'm repeating this same process, and it's weird, to say the least, to have both the novice perspective and the "slightly experienced" one.

Having taken an extensive hiatus from blogging, it's weird trying to get back into it. I'm not the same person I was when I started, and I'm not the same writer. I've realized lately that I miss that person. I miss the abandon with which I could write. And instead of going forth and writing, I sat around thinking.

Strange as it sounds for someone who likes to write, I've never kept a journal. I've fancied the idea for ages, ever since I was a teen. But I abandoned that idea because journals were something that could be found and read, and I feared I would share secrets I didn't want known. Last month, I picked up an empty journal I had laying around, unused. After flipping through its empty pages, I grabbed a pen and started writing.

Every time I write in that journal now, I feel more liberated. I can think things through. Maybe some of my late nights spent thinking can lead to some sort of revelation. And maybe not. It doesn't matter, because it's the process that is fun. Even if I never go back to read it, I had fun writing it. I see those pages differently now; the empty pages look up at me, beckoning to be filled with words. And every day, or every few days, I am happy to oblige their longing.

I will find my way again, I'm sure. I didn't realize it until now, but my path to losing weight last year was made possible only because I didn't have a seemingly impossible number in mind. I didn't think "Only 49 pounds to reach my goal of 50!"; my objective was to lose one pound. And then another. And another. And before I knew it, I'd done that over 50 times.

I'll write one word, one sentence, one paragraph at a time. And when I look back, I suspect I'll find I enjoyed the hell out of it all. And that's something, I think, that is worth writing about.

Things I didn't anticipate accomplishing during my 28th year, but I did anyway:

• lost over 50 pounds
• became a Zumba instructor
• moved back to my hometown
• cooked up a storm
• got bitten by the photography bug and bought a DSLR camera
• and today, changed out the RAM on my computer

During my 27th year I completed graduate school and had had hardly a clue about what I wanted in life. This year, I realized what I wanted and worked incredibly hard to make it happen.

Small ideas came to life in big ways. Instead of talking about wanting to be healthier and lose weight, I stopped thinking about losing 20 or 30 or 40 pounds and just went for it. Having no numbers in mind made it easier to just take it a little at a time and enjoy the journey.

I went from thinking about really living my life, to actually living it. I think that's more than I could ask for from a year in life.

The moral of this year's story? Thinking ahead is great! Thinking in specifics in that thinking ahead is not so great. Makes me look forward very much to whatever is in store for me this next year. I have no plans, so perhaps anything is possible.

(And who knows, maybe I'll stop thinking about wanting to blog more and just blog more already.)