wee epiphany

I like working. It makes me happy to feel like I've gotten stuff done. It's part of who I am. Talking with S. last night, I realized that I feel better when I feel like I've accomplished something for the day. Then I can relax and not have that nagging little voice tapping me on the shoulder while I try to read.

Plus, I like what I'm working on. This isn't justification for working too much (how that sentence itself sounds like justification). It's coming to terms with what makes me feel good.

And, from the department of "what does this have to do with anything," I give you this conversation between S. and me a few weeks ago.

We were watching a History Channel one-hour segment on the Unabomber. S. loves true crime stuff, and I had seen the Unabomber's brother speak at ISU my first year here, and it got me thinking about the role of writing in his being outed. Anyway, there was this:

Me: Why's he called the Unabomber, anyway?

S. Because he's a bomber and there's only one of him.

LOVE IT.

Actually, he's called the Unabomber because his first targets were at UNiversities and Airlines, so they took those first few letters and called him the UNAbomber. Not very original. Or creative, but there it is.