Currently

Brainstorming ideas for a project I want to start next Friday.  I'm turning 28, and I really want to do something that will force help me to very intentionally and consciously enjoy the last two years of my twenties.  I can't commit to anything that would entail a daily blog post, but I'd like to do some kind of "730 before 30" project where I do something every day for the next two years.  Maybe I just take a picture every day of something that made me happy or made me laugh?  Maybe I pick a theme for each month and do/photograph/document something supporting that theme every day?  There are a lot of directions this could take!  I need to make up my mind, and fast!

Thinking about also doing a "30 before 30" bucket list, but I'm drawing a total blank.  I was thinking about this in the shower and the only thing I could think of was completely absurd.  For some reason, what popped into my mind was that I should really attend a Gathering of the Juggalos.  I recently heard that the Insane Clown Posse is getting a TV show, which is probably the very last thing the world needs, but it made me remember the Workaholics episode about the Gathering, and I now have this morbid fascination with experiencing it for myself.  If nothing else, it would definitely be a really great schadenfreude situation, in which I would derive immense pleasure from gaping in horror at other people's horrendous life choices.

I also wouldn't mind going to Burning Man, going to Mardi Gras on Bourbon Street, and going to the Kentucky Derby.  I feel strangely drawn to observe absolute shitshows where people with very different life paths from mine will frolic and be in their element.  I don't even necessarily want to take part in any of it, except for the mint julep drinking and big floppy hat wearing at the Kentucky Derby.  I just want to watch.  Is that weird?

Smelling my own stank.  I think it's officially time to switch from wintertime hippie deodorant to the hard stuff.  Put some aluminum and god knows what else up in these pits.  I just don't want to be the smelly kid.  I feel like I sweat more in this dry desert heat than I ever did in the East Coast humidity.  I'm pretty sure I have said this before, but it's like the air is robbing my body of moisture in the form of sweat, whereas my body and the humid air had basically achieved equilibrium.  No exchange of fluids necessary.  Gross.  Sorrynotsorry.

Looking forward to watching Andy finish his Steeplechase this weekend.  Not the horsey kind.  The kind where insane human beings voluntarily wake up at the crack of dawn and run something like 18 miles up and down a mountain.  Charlie and I will be cheering him on at the finish line, and Charlie privately told me that he can't wait to lick the sweat off Andy's legs.  Charlie is disgusting.  (Charlie is also a dog.)

Missing the beach the shore.  I think last year was the first year of my life that I didn't make it to the Jersey Shore one single time.  No, not the fist-pumping Jersey Shore.  Can we please move past that version?  I just want the laying in the sand, listening to the waves, walking on the boardwalk, eating ice cream Jersey Shore.  Until I broke down and laid out for a little while last weekend, I had lost all my bathingsuit tan lines!  Farmer tan is really not cute.  To have orange arms and stark white everything else is really not the look for anyone.  Even if you are a farmer.  Which I'm not.

Oddly enough, even though I have missed the sea, I don't have to be nostalgic for seagulls.  Not because there's nothing to miss about everyone's favorite rats with wings, but because there are seagulls here in landlocked northern Utah.  What are they doing here?  How did they get here?  Do they know about stealing french fries and sandwiches from small children and unobservant adults?  Wouldn't they be happier by, you know, the sea?  Mind blown.