Saturdays are different now. I have them entirely to myself, and I try to spend part of them in my flat, simply to center myself outside of everything that happens during the rest of the week.

Sometimes I end up working or cleaning or socializing, but I’ve realized over the past few months that the most valuable thing I do on Saturdays is sitting in the window while thinking. I never get bored because there’s a lot going on now, and a lot to process of what’s gone on before.

Lists of hobbies like the kind we see on social networking sites usually do not include “thinking” next to “traveling” and “hiking” and “knitting”. How would one quantify a hobby like that, anyway? We’re all expected to think, but I hadn’t really set aside specific time for it before now.

I accomplished some thinking today. What does that even mean? Writing about thinking seems a little self-indulgent, but I write about feeling all the time. Something I thought about today was how to write about thinking. Now that’s meta.

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I acknowledge that I live and work on stolen Cowlitz, Clackamas, Atfalati, and Kalapuya land.
I give respect and reverence to those who came before me.