It’s funny how one’s life loses utterly all meaning when Netflix has run out of seasons of Parks and Rec to watch.

Well okay, not utterly.

My mind has been in this dead space, for awhile now. Have you ever heard someone say it’s weird how men have this place they can go to in their heads to literally not think of anything? It’s a spot in their mind that’s just zilch. Nada. Totally empty. And in that space the only thing that matters is sub sandwiches and well, sub sandwiches.

I might be a guy.

I’ve been frequenting the dead space a lot lately. And then, something will set me off. Like I have an appointment today at the dealership where I got my car, to get my first car wellness check up. Ok–they don’t call it that, but that’s what I call it. And literally for the last 24 hours I’ve been freakin’ out because I’m like hmmm you know, I was so excited to get this car when I got it that I don’t even remember where the dealership is. Sure sure, I can GPS it on my phone but what if I’m late? What if I turn inside the wrong entrance since there’s two? What if the complimentary first service isn’t all that complimentary after all, and I have to pay for it? But I’m broke and I spent my last $7 on a sandwich (this post is going to use that word a lot) and then after I spent my last $7 I took money out of my savings to buy some MAC makeup because I’ve deemed myself a make-up artist even though no, I have not gone to school for it yet, and living here in SD, I’m not sure I ever will.

And I really want to know. How do you know what God wants for you? How do you know if you’re supposed to stay where you are, or keep moving? Would the future you want be more possible, probable, or likely, if you were with someone else? If you lived somewhere else? Or is it all dependent on you and your childish ways?

On my right I see birthday balloons floating and spinning 180 degrees every few seconds. On my left I have a stack of optician homework I don’t understand.

Next episode, please.

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