I’ve tinkered with the idea the way a child might play with play dough.  Squeezing all the mushy goodness of the idea in my hands, only to realize I’ve created a messy ball of dough.  I’ve looked at this messy ball of dough and thought about throwing it away.  Tossing it in the garbage and not having to deal with it.  But the squish of the dough between my fingers.  That ooey, gooey, oh so satisfying squish has a way of bringing me back.  And, like a kid ready to begin molding a creation, I too am ready to begin molding mine.  And here we are.  Here I am, ready to sculpt.

Fate drew us together.  We weren’t looking for one another, nor did we expect to meet in such an unconventional way.  But, for whatever the reason, we are cosmically linked.  There have been times when we’ve feared separation, but somehow we always find our way back.

Our story is one of lust.  Where we first encountered one another is unclear.  Our connection lay dormant for some time – my mind focused elsewhere.  But, when my hand first felt the smoothness, learned how gently words could be expressed, the passion was palpable.

When others try to steal attention, even a moment’s, jealousy envelops me.  My pupils dilate, and I focus only on what I want to be mine and only mine.  Once we are together again, I feel at ease.  We rest in each other’s grasp, wasting hours creating stories together.

Today we are apart, but I rest easy.  I know we will continue to be drawn together, until the last drop of ink leaves your tip.

You are my favorite pen.

It’s a beautiful thing, really.  Due dates and deadlines fast approaching, the subtle rumblings of angst masked in adrenaline.  The ticking of the clock.  The beating of your heart.  The all-encompassing determination.

I wouldn’t consider myself a procrastinator to a fault.  Albeit, I’ve never missed a deadline and am rarely scrambling to add anything other than finishing touches before an assignment is due.  However, I believe there is an art to having just the right amount of time to get something done without having to scramble/pull your hair out/[insert anxious action of choice].

Let’s spell this out a bit more.  An assignment is given in class on a Monday, due in class the following Monday.  Never would I go home and begin the work that night, or even the night after.  If we’re being honest here, probably not that day after that, either.  But come Thursday or Friday, something in my brain goes off and alerts me that it is essential to start the assignment now to avoid a scrambling situation later.

At this point, I will take out my computer and size up the assignment.  Look it up and down, left to right.  Make it squirm.  Then, quite likely, I will return to whatever activity I had been doing before, and vow to start the real work later that day.

Come bedtime, I’ll bring my assignment to my room.  I’ll methodically brush my teeth and wash my face, never for a second rushing to get to my poorly-attended to-do.  I’ll get under the covers, cast my gaze on the work momentarily, and instinctively opt for my phone and a session of scrolling and liking pictures.  And so the dance continues.

Monday morning fast approaching, a nerve is triggered somewhere in my fear center.  My monkey brain takes over.  I walk to school, take out my papers, highlighters and computer and begin the assignment, one eye on the prize the other on the clock.  I then pause to write this post.

Indeed, a beautiful dance it is.

That is NOT the question.

To be clear, it was the question for a long time, but I recently decided there was no reason NOT to blog.  I used to write for the The Michigan Daily, and since graduating I’ve missed having the opportunity to force my friends and family to read the nonsense I wrote about. Well, friends and family, get excited!  There’s more nonsense coming your way soon 🙂

I don’t plan to write about any one topic in particular, but rather use this as a journal of sorts, to share my thoughts mostly for my own reference, and a tad for the enjoyment of my grandparents.  If my thoughts provide any use or insight to others, so be it.

So, why Elevator Etiquette?  I’ve always been fascinated with social norms, why we abide by them, and why those who don’t abide by them are often ridiculed.  Elevator etiquette just happens to be one of my favorite examples.  Allow me to paint a quick picture:

You get in an elevator in the lobby of a building.  A stranger walks in just before the door closes.  You possibly nod to acknowledge each other’s presence, but quite possibly you ignore each other.  You stand in silence facing the door.  

Silence.

The elevator door opens on floor 7 and the stranger steps out.  You give an awkward half smile and mumble “Have a nice day”.  The door closes.

You sigh, relieved to have the elevator to yourself again.  

The above interaction is quite strange, and I have to imagine if we are someday taken over by an alien life force and they create an ethnography of our species, elevator etiquette will be up there with baby talk as one of the wonders of the human race.

There you have it.  No frills, just etiquette.  You can expect to see a variety of posts, ranging from business observations, life notes, to, you guessed it, elevator stories.

Doors opening.