New York City this evening smells like the Salt Lake City in which I grew up. I can't put my finger on the reason for this; it's some combination of humidity, temperature, air motility, particulate matter suspension, and god knows what else. No matter the reason, tonight it smells in flat, ocean-bound New York like I remember it smelling in mountainous, desert-bound Salt Lake City as a kid.
Once upon a time I blogged. Not "blogged" as in "practiced a kind of thin, independent, crowdsourced journalism online" but blogged as in the mid-'90s conception from which the term is derived: personal web log (i.e. "blog").
I essentially stopped gradually in recent years as my professional life became more and more important to me.
I miss it.
Things are better than I think they are, better than they've ever been. I have to continue to remember this. Somehow, in the space of daily practice and experience, it's easy to lose sight of context. I am precisely at the place I've spent most of my life wanting to reach. When the world is made of rainbows and gold, it's easy to get upset when a lone cockroach scurries across your path or a spec of dust lands in your eye. You can't, however, let it get to you if the world is indeed made of rainbows and gold where you stand.
And where we stand right now, it is.