Beyond all logic, I still want a mechanical keyboard. I subscribe to the illusion that I would blog more, type more with a better keyboard. Same as I'd practice more if I had a better guitar, or I'd play better Call of Duty with a better controller. Or I'd be a better animator if I only had a better computer, I'd be a better photographer if only I had a better camera.

I still want a nice microphone and a mixer, to be able to take guitar videos.

 The Trump presidency is mercifully ending.

One week of online school and then in-person begins again. Re-begins?

Today I feel tired and sick, and I napped in between Melvin's feedings. I missed work yesterday and today because Julia's back means she is having trouble doing anything, and she can't see a doctor for another two weeks at least.

I just bought a Moleskin notebook with the intention of filling it up and giving it to my son on his 18th birthday.  We are just wrapping up Christmas weekend in Illinois.

If I don't write down what's happening, who will remember me when I'm gone?

I am obsessed with what people think of me and how I will be remembered.

The irony is, of course, that when you die, you are no longer around to care. At that point, it doesn't matter.

I haven't kept a blog since LiveJournal was a thing.