Sunday, September 10, 2017

This post contains nothing deeper than a simple celebration of my new chair.
It’s an awesome chair in that it’s not really a chair; it’s more of a circular fluffy thing. It has an official name that starts with a p, but all I know is that it’s round, it’s big, it’s enormously comfortable, and it has a white pillow that my laptop’s sitting on as I type this.

It’s a wonderful chair.

I’m slightly delirious because I traveled like two hundred miles today, I just watched two forty-minute TV episodes, and I just had super salty Vietnamese food. In a bit, I’ll grab some water from the plethora of half-empty water bottles sitting on my bookshelf right now (seriously, where do those come from?) but in the meantime, I’m writing this post because I promised myself seventeen posts, and seventeen posts I shall have.

Earlier this evening, before the TV but after the Vietnamese food, I read part of a book called A History of Surfing. According to the introduction, it holds 250,000 words and an entire history of surfing, from the theory that surfing originated with ancient Peruvians to a study of the culture in the present day. (I read about the Peruvians, but not about the present day surfing culture.) The book also has very large photos, some full-color and others black-and-white, that were nice to look at when I found my attention wandering from the words. This was due to the two hundred miles and MSG.

I read A History of Surfing in this very chair I’m sitting in now, curled up comfortably, balancing the five-pound book (I’m not kidding; it actually weighs about five pounds) so that I could comfortably read the nine-point font. Much to my surprise, I stayed this way for the entire duration of my reading period, which lasted probably about an hour. Normally, when I read a book, I’m Tarzan: I swing from tree to tree, try out different perches, figure out the upside-down thing, and end up stomach down on the ground, where I belong. But this chair tamed the wild reading beast in me.

(I apologize for my metaphors, which are pretty stupid, even for me.)

We got this chair from family friends of ours: my mom’s old college friend didn’t want it anymore, so we got it, because we saw it and we loved it. Or rather, I loved it, and claimed it.

There’s just a bit of a problem. I leave in a week. By the time I come home for Thanksgiving, this chair will probably be my little sister’s choice piece of furniture, as well as a place for my brothers to snuggle while building forts and whatnot on their phones.

But for one glorious week, this chair is in my bedroom, and I will probably sleep in it at some point. Maybe tonight. Maybe tomorrow night. Maybe all week. As I dismantle my bedroom, get rid of stuff I should’ve gotten rid of ten years ago, and move on with my life, this chair will be sitting here, observing my family’s patterns of life, living out its potential as a chair.

New beginnings, new endings, transformations, changes, whatever. God bless whoever invented this chair.


  1. This was so cute!
    My name is Amelia Ruth, and I am a fellow Christian blogger. I am also a writer (or like to think so), and a photographer. A good friend of mine linked a few posts of yours for me because lately I have been having trouble with my novel. You're writing style is very easygoing and I subscribed immediately.
    And goodness gracious does that chair sound fabulous.

    Amelia xxx

  2. Even your ramblings are eloquent. <3


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