the mind of a fish.

So the last tenants before me left me a whole bunch of things when they moved out. One of them was a fish. He's a bluish purplish betta fish, and when I first moved in, he just looked so unhappy in his green water and yucky bowl. So I would sing to him, that one song from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory: "Cheer up, Charlie, when skies are grey...."

And now his name is Charlie.

And all my Charles does is sit there in his tank and swim around. I think about that sometimes. How boring I would find that life. Luckily he has me to be inhabiting the rooms in his line of vision, so I'm sure he's never TOO bored, except between the hours of 2 and 9 am. But I mean, if it weren't for me, what would he even do all day? All he can do is watch me live.

I went to my friend Christine's house today, to see what she'd done with it. The conversation turned to TV, and her roommate Leanne said something very wise: that she was sick of watching other people live their lives and it was time for her to live hers.

"And let us make our lives worth watching," I said.

I can think of nothing worse than dying and leaving no legacy behind. So dang it, I am going to leave something behind.