28 September 1994
Some things are just too petty to have actually worried about, but I did.
It’s crazy.
But maybe I have gone too far. Let me explain. I have a time machine. Â It’s just a bankers box, not too heavy. Â It is filled with books and folders. The folders are filled with printouts. Some of them are dot matrix printouts, neatly stapled. The books are a ragtag bunch. Some are spiral bound notebooks and some are honest to goodness leather bound journals.
The interesting thing about this time machine is the labeling. On it, an earlier version of me has written, “Box o’Inspiration.” Then, below that in all caps, “USE ME, DAMMIT!” Then below that in smaller letters, perhaps as an afterthought, “Stop running away.”