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I’m doing what I want to do.

And it feels pretty great, to have that as my reality. It’s not a realization or a mantra or something that I’m insisting upon in the face of opposition.

There is next to no opposition to the unfolding of my days, no forces acting contrary to my ways. I don’t think in terms of what I want to do, must do, can’t do yet, have to do before I can do what I really want to. I just *do*.

Means are another matter but even their limited-as-ever presence in my life is just not any kind of issue these days.

This could be due to the tranquilizing effect of veggie-loading. I’m still looking for the definitive study to confirm the anecdotal evidence that continues to accumulate. Googling “vegetables euphoria” and so forth has not been, ahem, fruitful.

After a brain-fevered encounter with “Forks Over Knives” last weekend (this was the day my alarm clock serenaded me awake – I swear it had a face – and right back to sleep with thoughts of how nice it was that it wasn’t making that horrible beeping sound) and a sneaking suspicion that the brain fever and wretchedly aching spine were due to my ancient enemy, listeriosis…I am taking vegetables seriously – consuming them almost exclusively.

Whole plant-based foods could be changing my life. Or I could be doing that, just because I think they will.

My newfound insatiable desire to read dystopian YA novels (and promptly re-read them) is also part of this picture. Whence it came I cannot say for sure. Perhaps it has been too long since I dusted off my commemorative edition of The Stand.

Perhaps I, too, long to experience insta!success when I publish my own entry into the field and am trying to glean some wisdom. The difficulty I had explaining what drama is to a 4-year-old just last week would support that explanation. Perhaps I am just that kind of sucker, who likes what’s popular, and easy, and fun for everyone. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.