Some of my blogging energy has been subverted into *gasp* personal email. Where's all his personal email, you ask? Well, you gotta send 'em to get 'em, as my lovely wife is fond of quoting. Those of you who have received the personal email, just keep quiet and try not to rabble-rouse.

Well, Travis sent me an email the other day that was decidedly, shall we say, stream of conscious. Not only did I reply, I replied in force, with full sentences, puctuation, correct capitalization and none of the typical monosyllabic terseness typical of my new communication style. Contrasted with my old communication style, before email was common. I'd write letters, by hand, and these suckers would span pages. Witty, witty pages of me, waxing philosophical about,... well, I can't remember any of it, but I'm pretty sure it was good. Somehow, I anticipated that email would increase my verbosity, by sheer access, but it really hasn't. It used to be that if I had a blank piece of paper and a pen in hand, I'd be writing a letter. Now that's not the case, not by a long shot.

I think one of the things that keeps me from this is my job. I've never put it this way, but my job is mostly thinking. And talking. It had never hit me how hard I think about things thoughout the day until I realized that when I'm off work, it just feels so much better to be a mental vegetable. Matt reads 2+ books a week, not counting graphic novels. What do I do? Something that usually involves a horizontal position and as little energy expenditure as possible. I know it sounds crazy, but I think my job is eating my brain. Or maybe it's the patients. I've never thought of them as B-Movie zombies, but I can almost see them lumbering down the hall, muttering "Brains.... Brains... BRAINS!!!!!"

Eep. I think I need a vacation.