I procrastinated my exercise for so long that my morning exercise became an evening walk. For as long as I can remember, I had so many words in me that they couldn’t help but spill out. It eventually got so bad that I started this weblog. The words had to find a place to land. Otherwise, they were going cover my friends and family like so much projectile vomit.

Suddenly, I find myself in a different position. I am obsessing over a video game in which I listen to animals tell me their stories and all I can do is choose a response from a pre-set list. I find that I am quite content to listen. I listen, send gifts in short letters that are unread and look for treasure in the water, trees and ground. If I could travel to my imaginary town of Merriton, I would.

What does it mean? Everyone that I know says it means I need some “real” friends. Mommy, sister, girlfriend all agree, but they don’t understand. Real friends can’t be turned off when I’m tired. Real friends take a lot longer than 60 seconds to get over it when they’re angry at me. Real friends stay longer than three minutes when they visit.

Of course, real friends never judge my house and tell me they can’t give me more than four stars until I complete my furniture set. Real friends also don’t give me random quizzes and become agitated when I give the wrong answer. Real friends don’t move away every two weeks. No, I don’t think the problem is that I need more real friends.

Maybe winter is closing in on me and I enjoy the idea of being outside and not feeling the cold. I am texting this entry on my Treo with gloved hands. Just because it’s unseasonably warm, doesn’t mean it’s warm. It just means I can take an evening walk without threat of frostbite. At no other time of the year does California call out to me than the cusp of winter. Soon there will be snow, both in my imaginary town and my real one.

I ache so hard for SXSWi that I can taste it four months away.