Escaping the Sea of Tears (and Other Lessons in Making Stuff)

This morning is the kind I would bottle if I could. Before Sunrise playing softly in the background, a grocery delivery on its way, a stick of chamomile incense making my office space smell amazing. I’m in that gentle in-between state where the world hasn’t yet demanded anything of me. 

And I’ve been thinking about part of last night’s conversation with Seth, the kind that runs past dinner and into the hours after the sun goes down. The air cooling around us and filling with drizzle as we sit at our little bistro table, comparing notes on the internet, creativity, and why we’re still here doing this whole “posting things online” dance after all these years.

The short version?

We’re obviously both still doing it, but it’s different now. Very different.

Back in My LiveJournal Days...

When Seth and I first met (over 20 years ago now) we were both living in the wild frontier days of LiveJournal. Back then, blogging didn't have much to do with clout or follower counts yet. You posted because you wanted to make a connection with other people. You wrote something heartfelt, and maybe a stranger in another time zone commented back with something equally heartfelt. 

You built friendships on words alone.

Fast forward to now, and it’s like everyone’s been replaced by a marketing department in human form. So many people seem to be here purely to acquire – followers, customers, attention, anything that can be converted into currency. 

I actually can't believe I know other writers, bloggers, and creators who are “successful” in the modern sense, but have also openly (shamelessly!) admitted they don’t actually enjoy writing. That blows my mind every time. Imagine hating something as magical as personal writing from the heart can be, but still doing it daily because the machine demands it.

I already had a job I hated when I first got online and started writing. The last thing I needed was another one.

I'm Building a Life, Not an Audience

As weird as I feel sometimes, I'm not that much different from any other content creator out there. 

I wouldn't say I'm doing all this to get famous or anything. I don't care about being an influencer, and at nearly 50 years old, I'm hardly still hung up on the idea of making my parents proud.

But my inner critic still occasionally likes to pop up uninvited and go, "Shouldn't you have more to show for this by now?" More followers. More reach. More evidence that what I make is actually seen, understood, and wanted. 

It’s just so easy to internalize the idea that visibility equals value. That if your work isn’t constantly going viral or leaving you rolling in dough every month, it must not matter.

I know that isn’t true. I also know I don’t post every day. I don’t play the game the way you're supposed to. And sometimes, the algorithm makes me feel like a ghost inside my own house, present but unseen.

But lately, I've been embracing a quieter truth. A truth I’ve known for a long time but haven’t always been lucid (or ballsy) enough to step up and claim. I don't actually think I'm building an audience anymore. I’m building a life.

A Life Worth Living From the Inside

I want a life I actually feel good about living on every level. Not a product. Not a personal brand in hyper-focus, trimmed and polished until there’s nothing strange, unpolished, or surprising left.

I want late mornings with the windows open and my favorite old music playing from the garden. I want homemade meals that slow-cook all day and make the neighbors jealous when they smell them cooking. I want firelight in the evenings and soft clothes and the sense that Seth and I are building something substantial together.

I want to write things that feel real, honest, and alive. Not pristinely optimized and scientifically calibrated for reach or restructured for engagement. (I do that more than often enough for my clients.) I want to make art that confuses people a little and makes them think a little harder. I want to pull tarot cards, light incense, stare at the moon, talk to spirits, and keep just a few little things just for me.

And I absolutely want to share with people, but not to gather likes or followers. I want to share for the same reasons birds sing. Because it's a completely natural thing for a living being to want to do.

Letting Go of the Growth Machine

When I write, I’m not imagining a room full of strangers applauding. I’m imagining one person — maybe someone like me — reading it alone, steaming cup of herbal tea in hand, and feeling a little less invisible. Maybe they smile or laugh. And then maybe they close the tab and go make something of their own.

I'm honestly not interested in growing a huge platform if it means sacrificing my peace. I don’t want to lose the beauty of my life chasing someone else’s idea of success. And I definitely don’t want to perform my trauma or turn my joy into a marketing funnel.

That doesn’t mean I don’t care about my work. It means I care about it too much to let it be twisted into something that doesn’t feel sacred anymore. I don’t want to be “relatable.” I want to be real. I don’t want to go viral. I want to go deep.

If This Resonated, Try This

If you’ve been feeling the pressure to “show up” online in ways that drain the life out of you, here are a few tips that might help:

• Make something just for you. Write a piece you don’t plan to publish. Take a photo to remember something instead of just to keep your Instagram feed full. Make art you might not even show anyone else. Reclaim the joy of creating without witnesses.
• Curate your space, not just your feed. Tend to the life around you and all your essentials. Your desk, your garden, your favorite cup. Let your physical world reflect the internal one you’re building. As with everything in life, the little things are the big things.
• Figure out why you're even doing this. And write it down so it's easier to sort out and refer back to. Keep it somewhere close. Read it when the noise gets loud. Don't focus on what drives traffic or gets likes.

A Garden, Not a Stage

I think of my online presence like a garden, and you should think of yours the same way. Some parts are wild, while others are carefully tended. Some things bloom right away. Others take their sweet time, and not everything is necessarily meant to be seen by everyone.

But it all belongs.

And if someone wanders in and finds a flower that speaks to them, that's fantastic. But in my case, I didn’t plant it for them. I plant for the bees, the wind, and the sun. I plant for myself. My creative life feels like the best fit when its foundation is living soil, not someone else's borrowed notion of a stage.

Because at the end of the day, I’d rather grow roots than chase applause.

When the Algorithm Breaks Your Routine: 6 Lessons in Resilience for Creators

So, there's this massive AI art group on Facebook where I'm the primary moderator. This being the case, I've developed a daily habit of hopping on there in the mornings to see what's going on, remove anything that violates community standards, approve posts, and make sure everyone's behaving before I go start my day.

But this morning, I opened Facebook as usual, only to find the group gone instead. It had been Zucked for God only knows what reason. (The notification they gave the owner was vague at best, as it often is when it comes to Meta.)

No warning. No explanation. Just a blank space where something big and vibrant used to be. The owner appealed the decision, obviously, and the group may be reinstated. But stuff like this can't help but get you thinking about certain things when it comes to content creation and how you manage your digital presence, especially if you depend on any part of it for income.

It's About More Than Just a Facebook Group

If you’ve ever helped build or moderate a thriving online community, you probably get why the (hopefully temporary) loss of that group knocked me for a loop. It becomes part of your routine. You check in. You contribute. You help people. You share what you’re working on and cheer for others as they grow. It becomes not only a digital space, but a personal anchor.

And like most things that are part of your daily routine, you don't consciously think about what they mean to you until they're not there anymore for whatever reason. 

As someone who actively avoided anything that looked even vaguely like responsibility or required me to manage other people for most of my life, I now recognize that group as the catalyst for a lot of personal growth in these areas. I realized that under the right circumstances, I actually enjoy those things. And they make me better, as a person and as a creator.

So that group mattered. 

The Illusion of Ownership

Here’s the hard truth about platforms, though. Especially examples like Facebook, Instagram, TikTok, and the like. They come and go. They operate by rules and standards that are sometimes vague and arbitrary. They can change those rules at will for any reason or no reason at all.

It's easier than most people think for their content to get caught in the crossfire through no real fault of their own.

We talk a hell of a lot about "our" groups, "our" pages. But we don't actually own any of those spaces. Facebook does. Instagram does. X (formerly Twitter) does. And those platforms can revoke access, throttle reach, or erase whole communities without notice.

Why Are Some People Always Around, but Never Really There?

There’s a specific kind of energy that comes from people who never interact with your posts and never cheer when you hit a milestone, but consider it important to keep tabs on you regardless.

Sometimes it’s an ex-employer or old client lurking on your LinkedIn for no good reason. Sometimes it’s a family member who dismissed your ambitions for years but still feels the need to track you all over the internet without being invited. And sometimes it’s a frenemy or an ex you know is secretly rooting for you to trip, because they’d feel better about their own inertia if you’d just slow down a little.

The Social Media Stage (Without the Applause)

Social media was something that was supposed to help us all connect, and sometimes it does. But it also makes it incredibly easy for people to stealth-monitor your journey without ever truly supporting it, especially people who know they should probably just mind their own business. They can lurk. Gossip. Screenshot. All without ever actually engaging.

Sometimes it feels like being on a stage where half the audience showed up with their arms crossed, just to see if you’ll flub your lines. And even if the evidence isn't right in your face all the time, you still feel it. You know the difference between being followed and being witnessed. One nourishes. The other just… drains.

Lurker Role Call: 5 Classic Types You Might Recognize

The following are just a few of the most common lurker species I've run into over the years, listed purely for observational purposes, of course. If you see yourself in one of these, maybe rethink your habits. 

1. The Ghost

Never interacts, despite knowing you personally, but is always watching regardless. You find out they’re still tuned in via a random slip in conversation six months later.

Signature move: “Oh, I saw that thing you posted,” on the tail of total silence when it was live.

2. The Spy

Usually a toxic ex or a professional rival, but may also be someone like a former boss who gave you the boot at some point. Claims they don’t care what you’re doing, while checking your updates more often than your actual friends.

Signature move: Story or profile views, tracking breadcrumbs, and muddy footprints in your analytics.

3. The Narrative Thief

Doesn’t engage, but uses your life as conversational currency. Often found quoting your updates to mutual acquaintances or even passing off your words as their own, without ever speaking to you directly.

Signature move: “Oh, I heard you’ve been doing some kind of writing thing lately.”

4. The Silent Frenemy

Used to be loud support... until you outgrew them or otherwise rubbed them the wrong way just by existing. Now they just lurk, half-hoping you fail.

Signature move: Occasionally showing up to argue with you but never to support or congratulate.

5. The Lurker Relative

Joined social media purely to watch you. Doesn’t post, doesn’t engage. They just kind of exist in the background like a bad smell. Loves to pick apart what you post on social media behind your back or use it as ammunition against you.

Signature move: Following you when they haven't been invited to (or possibly even after you've pointedly asked them not to), and then acting like you’re the weird one.

Visibility vs. Vulnerability

Being visible is part of the gig when you’re using your web presence to build something or get your voice out there. But it comes with that weird side effect everyone knows and no one actually likes. People from your past (or the sidelines) showing up to watch or be all stalkery and weird, but never to actually help or support.

And the worst part? They think you don’t notice.

There's really only one thing to say to that. You’re allowed to keep creating, glowing way the hell up, and growing, even when you’re being watched by people who’d rather you didn’t. 

Let them lurk. Let them wonder. Just don’t let them dim you, because they’re not your audience. They’re just background noise. And you? You’re the main event.

Simple Meals, Simpler Living: What Bread and Butter Can Teach Us

It was just a can of lentil stew I had sitting around. Just a little butter on a slice of sourdough from a loaf I bought the other day, plus a few walnuts and a slice or two of fresh mozzarella to round things out. (No meat, because it's Friday –– a Catholic tradition I adopted years ago and held onto because it still serves me.)

It was the simplest possible lunch I could have made for myself on a weekday afternoon while trying to figure out what was next for my day –– nothing special. But I felt like making it into something more than just scraps and leftovers with a dash or two of intention. Not a gourmet meal by any means, but a deliberate one.

So, instead of absentmindedly cramming my food into my mouth while I continued to work, I lit a stick of pine incense, put on an old episode of Outlander, and took a moment to appreciate the grey overcast cloudiness outside while I ate instead. That choice changed everything and helped the rest of my afternoon play out better.

Simple Doesn't Mean Lesser (or Lazy)

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about simplicity, and not just when it comes to food. But also my creative work and how I structure my days. I've been considering all the different ways people try to keep up with a world that never stops demanding more, faster, louder. There’s this pressure, especially online, to make everything into a big production. To over-engineer the sacred, over-style the beautiful, and turn even lunch into content.

But sometimes, the most nourishing thing we can do is return to something unremarkable instead, allowing it to be enough. 

Simplicity is so often mistaken for lack. A meal that isn’t Instagram-worthy is proof we didn’t even try. A short blog post means we didn’t give a shit. A walk taken without tracking our steps must mean we weren’t committed to our health that day.

But real simplicity takes presence and restraint. It takes the ability to know when something is already enough.

Yes, My Communication Skills Need Work

Isolation Communication - Charles Luna

So, one thing I've been desperately trying to work on lately is being less of a trash-hole human as far as communication goes, particularly online. I am notoriously horrible at it and have been my entire life. Part of that is probably a spectrum thing, as I just kind of shut down socially and isolate more when I've been letting comments on Medium or on social media back up too far without responses. The rest of it is often either a time thing or a genuine lack of knowledge about what to say in response.

So, I guess what I'm getting at is that if you're a reader who's ever reached out to me over email, on Medium, or via any of my social media channels and didn't get a response, it doesn't mean I didn't see it or deliberately chose to ignore it. I likely read it right away through my notification emails, meant to get back to you some other time, and then spaced it entirely. Or I could just be taking my sweet time, which I sometimes do. I often have a lot on my plate -- so much that I occasionally have to pull back temporarily from blogging and social media altogether -- and it can take me a while to circle back to things like answering comments. 

Seriously, the only time I deliberately ghost communications from a reader altogether is if they were rude or trollish. So, if you're not an asshole who went out of your way to try to ruin my day because you don't like my stupid face or something, know that I appreciate you and your response. Even if I never wound up getting back to you because I took so long about it that responding started to seem "weird". Don't let my overblown sense of self-confidence fool you. I'm a master overthinker, and that gets me into trouble sometimes.

Many Departures

I never feel like I have that much going on in my life until I actually sit down to blog when it's been a while. It really makes me realize the extent to which time flies. My cat died not long after my last post. She was on the older side and hadn't been doing that well for a while, so it wasn't completely unexpected. It managed to be wholly devastating anyway though. 

I'm not the sort of person that supports wallowing in emotions like grief or disappointment -- or at least not to the point where it starts to feel like it's doing you more harm than good -- but I can't lie. This has been really hard for me. I've had many pets over the years, but Ched was just special. She's pretty much the only living being I've ever known that I can honestly say never seemed to feel anything toward me but love. It's done me so much good to know that any living thing could really embrace me unconditionally like that because it's certainly more than I can say for even the best humans in my life.

And as tough as it can be to feel sad for the loss of both big and little souls that touch lives, I've realized there's a positive side to grief. It's your proof that you experienced someone and something worth missing. I've literally had whole-ass family members and so-called good friends exit this planet without eliciting so much as a tear from me, let alone full-force grief, but looking back on those relationships, I'm not surprised. They were never there for me. They never laughed with me or cried with me. They never actually acted like they loved me or cared about being part of my life. And to be honest, the feeling was mutual. 

I know a lot of animals are unconditionally loving and loyal -- one reason I've always preferred them to people -- but Ched was that to an unusual degree. She did nothing but love me, even when I got frustrated, irritated, or downright angry with her. I worry that I wasn't always as nice to her as she deserved, but I'm sure she had to have known how loved she was regardless. I tried to show her as much as I could and to the extent that I know how. 

On the Departure of a Former Friend and Continued Writing Success

The passage of time is a really weird thing, especially when it comes to other people that are part of your life to varying degrees. The older I become and the more I change with the years, the less connected I feel to the people I used to know on whatever level. I've never been the most social person in my offline life, but I was relatively communicative and friendly online for a long while. Probably why changes in my online social life spark more reflection on this front.

I'm especially confused by a lot of my friendships with other women, both online and off. Most women are socialized to be a lot less direct and straightforward than men, so I'm never quite sure where I stand with a lot of them. There have always been at least a few who seem really conflicted as far as how they feel about me. I'll pick up on definite interest and admiration, but also an undercurrent of something darker. Jealousy or resentment, maybe. Something competitive gone completely sour.

I often feel like such acquaintances are secretly rooting for me to fail, especially if their goals and dreams for themselves intersect with mine at all, as if there's a limited amount of success to go around and they feel I'm getting more than my share. I never know what to do about people that give off that vibe -- that they don't root for me to win or cheer for me when I do. I don't like feeling like people I know are sitting around wishing evil or misfortune into my life, but I also feel like I'm not patient enough with people and cut others off way too quickly. I'm trying to be less like that, especially as I get older, so more often than not, I just let people hang around, but distance myself to stay off of their radar as much as possible.

This morning, I noticed that one of these women apparently unfriended me on Facebook over the weekend. I haven't been posting anything inflammatory lately, nor have I been leaving ambiguous comments on her posts, so I don't think the reason was anything like that. She was in the habit of leaving odd comments on some of my posts that made me feel like she resents a lot of the personal progress I've been making though -- especially when it comes to things like selfies, beauty posts, or workout/health updates. This person had been on the wagon for a while herself with all of that stuff, but she started backsliding badly around the time my own progress was becoming really visible, and I think she resents that.

Things That Make Me Squint

There are two types of occurrences that pretty much never fail to remind me that a Mercury retrograde period is imminent. The first is the collection of technical snafus and miscommunications that most people associate with Mercury retrograde. The other has to do with people from my past getting it into their heads to reach out to me for whatever reason.

This time around it's the latter -- honestly the more irritating of those two phenomena. I can prepare for technical foul-ups or miscommunications and often prevent them from happening in the first place. However, there's little to nothing I can do to stop exes, estranged family members, or old friends I've outgrown from tracking my ass down and contacting me if they're really determined to get back in touch. I absolutely hate how intrusive stuff like that feels when it actually happens.

Contrary to popular belief, ending a relationship with another person is never something I do lightly. There is literally always a good reason why I did it, and I'm not the sort of person that will get over whatever that reason was given enough time. It's almost always a choice I'd been thinking of making for some time as well, even if it appears to be a snap decision on the surface. My handing you your walking papers means I never want to see or hear from you again. Not in a few weeks. Not in a year. Not in twenty years. I will do what I can to learn from the mistake I made by letting you into my life in the first place, but that is what I will forever consider my relationship with you going forward  -- a mistake that I want to avoid repeating in the future. I won't miss you. I won't think back fondly on "the good times". I'll just be glad you're gone along with whatever brand of toxicity you were bringing into my life while you were still part of it.

On Royal Weddings, Birds, and Shifting Social Tides

Last Friday, Seth and I stayed up late to watch CNN's live footage of Prince Harry and Meghan Markle getting married. I'm so very glad we did. I've casually followed the lives of the British royals since I first saw Diana and Charles get married as a little girl, so naturally I was interested in seeing their boys get married too. I watched them be born and grow up, after all, so -- like many people -- I guess I feel like I know them a little bit. Plus, Seth and I already watched the live footage of Prince William and Kate Middleton getting married years ago and had a wonderful time.

Harry has always been my favorite of the two princes though, so I was especially interested in seeing him sort of find someone eventually and settle down. Imagine how thrilled I was when he chose someone not only smart and poised, but biracial as well. Being biracial myself, that really means something to me. I was born in the 70's, so I very definitely grew up with the message that girls like me don't get to be princesses. We certainly were never considered pretty, or desirable, or noteworthy, so it's been quietly blowing my mind a little bit that I can actually recognize myself in the face of one of the British royals -- something I really didn't think would ever happen. Yes, there are still plenty of bigots out there that think we mixed girls (Meghan Markle included) ain't shit, but they can't change the fact that this is just huge.

At any rate, watching that wedding was just what I needed, so haters be damned. Some people really seem to get something out of feeling miserable all the time and focusing on everything that's wrong with the world we live in, but I don't. As melancholy and depressed as I can get from time to time, I always choose happiness, and cheer, and optimism as often as it makes sense to, so it was really nice to spend an entire evening thinking about gorgeous white flowers, and crazy English church hats, and a beautiful mixed girl marrying the best prince for a change. 

Writing Lab: That Very First Blog

Prompt: "What was the first blog you read online?"

Weirdly enough, I still remember stumbling across someone else's blog for the first time. I didn't know it then, but that discovery would change my life, how I communicate, and how I relate to other people forever.

It happened sometime in the early 2000's -- maybe 2002 or 2003. My ex-husband and I had just gotten a computer and Internet access, the very first experience with such things for either of us. He mostly used it to email his mother and download pirated music, but I had other ideas. I was far more interested in using the Internet to learn new things and possibly to connect to new people that actually thought like me or shared my interests.

As is the case with many people that don't feel like they relate to anyone else, one of my strongest interests at the time was music. Tori Amos was my absolute favorite artist back then, but I knew almost no one in my offline life that had even heard of her. Naturally, it made sense to me to use the Internet to seek out other Tori fans that were as obsessed with her music as I was. That's how I found this wonderful fan site called A Dent in the Tori Amos Net Universe (or "The Dent" for short). At first, I just came to The Dent to keep up on Tori-related news. Eventually though, I felt compelled to start contributing to it as well. I started submitting reviews of some of the concerts I'd gone to -- my first ever experience with sharing any of my writing online.

On the Conundrum of Generosity

Something I've always hated about the phrase "giving back". It takes it for granted that something has been received in the first place. It's also something I hear from other people a lot when they approach me looking for favors or advice right after I politely decline their request: "Don't you want to give back?"

No, actually. That's what happens to a person when they've spent their entire life surrounded by people that were constantly trying to gauge just how little they themselves could get away with doing for others. They don't exactly come out of that experience with a generous spirit that's just bursting at the seams with love for their fellow man. They are probably pretty stingy with their resources and they are very choosy about who, if anyone, ever gets to see that gracious, giving side of their personality.

I'm much more passive and reactionary than people think I am, meaning I almost always treat others the way I feel they've treated me. That said, if you've known me a long time and you consider me to be stingy, or manipulative, or distant but can't seem to understand why, it's probably because I feel you've been that way with me. (Either that or I legitimately just don't like you and want you to go away, but that's a whole other topic for another day entirely.)

My Nipples Don't Need Your Help

So I had another "I totally feel 40" moment earlier. I woke up this morning to an Instagram message from some chick. She was apparently one of the many women you run into on social media these days that claim to be feminists fighting for social justice and all that. Her account was one of those "free the nipple" deals. She was actually messaging me to request a submission. You know, so I can do my part to fight for women's equality.

Why she approached me of all people, I don't know. I have a profile picture up on Instagram and I will very, very occasionally post a selfie or something. But none of the photos I post are the type of thing that should lead anyone to believe I wouldn't mind showing a bunch of perfect strangers my tits. I use Instagram primarily to post pictures of the foods Seth and I cook. All I can figure is that this person took one look at me, saw that I was "alternative" looking (unnatural hair color with black clothes), and mistook me for someone a lot younger or more progressive than I actually am. It sure wouldn't be the first time. Whatever the reasons, I was honestly kind of offended, but not for the reasons most people would probably think. 

The Death and Taxes of It All

I feel like I'm going though another one of my phases -- the ones that are becoming more and more frequent these days. I already voluntarily avoid offline friendships, but I'm swiftly approaching the point where I don't care to have many online ones to speak of either. The vast majority of the people I used to think of as friends just bother me now. They all seem so ignorant, and silly, and stunted. They're all stuck in a place I managed to break free from years ago at this point... and I've always been something of a late bloomer, so that's really saying something.

None of them show the slightest little bit of interest in growing or evolving either and something about that honestly disgusts me. I've always wanted to be better than I was. All that's ever changed was my definition of what "better" meant. Somewhere along the line, it stopped meaning "be someone my parents like and approve of" and started meaning "be someone I like and approve of". Even now, I still want to be so much better and so much more. And I want to be surrounded by people like myself -- thinkers, artists. People that are more focused on improving themselves and less concerned with how they stack up to others around them.

Writing Lab: On Relationships and Technology

Prompt: "How has technology enhanced or detracted from your relationships?"

I've never been a member of the camp that thinks technology is nothing but negative when it comes to human relationships. All technology does is give people more options. What is done with those options depends entirely on the person. Some people do use it to tune out and disengage from the world around them. However, there are plenty of others that take advantage of the opportunity to be more connected, as opposed to less. I consider myself to be the latter.

I've always been a loner, as well as extremely introverted. While I have always enjoyed having at least a few close personal relationships with other people, I have never enjoyed what has to happen in order to obtain those relationships. I hate being in the physical presence of people I don't know and I loathe making small talk, attending social events, and pretty much everything else that people used to have to do if they wanted to make friends or find people to date. 

Indian Summer

Indian summer is in full effect here in the Monterey area and I really don't like it much. Some people here love the unseasonably warm weather and welcome the chance to enjoy an extended summer. Being the fragile little Pisces that I am, I'm really very sensitive to heat, so I have to worry about problems like heat stroke. Especially since like most households around here, ours doesn't have air conditioning.

Thankfully, Seth is the type of guy that insists on doing anything he can to make me as comfortable as possible. Within the past week or so, two of the fans we depend on to stay cool when it's warm decided to kick the bucket. We tried to order a replacement in time for it to get here before the heat wave started, but there was some problem with the order on the vendor's end and it was unexpectedly cancelled.

Yesterday, Seth actually wound up walking five miles and visiting three different stores to get us a new fan so that we wouldn't fry to death. I'm really grateful that he did, too, because having this new fan in here today has made a massive difference. It's been warm, but I haven't even broken a sweat despite the temps being up in the 90's somewhere for most of the day. Thankfully, I didn't have any deadlines today, so I was also able to just kind of forget about work for a change and just vegetate.