Moment of the day: Heading back from the print shop listening to the tail end of the Gladiator soundtrack. It's the bit where quiet humming over a wash of serene strings have just broken through the thunderous battle music that's been blaring through my speakers for most of the ride. I'm in a behemoth of a minivan rattling down a poorly patched road, so the CD slams and skips intermittently.

There are gorgeous lofted clouds with sunlight streaming down around their edges, and I'm giving in to an overwhelming need for solitude that I've been fighting all day, letting myself just float in a sea of feeling lonely. It's not a bad feeling, though I'll pull it down (somewhat unsuccessfully, to my chagrin - I haven't had this much trouble rewiring my brain for a while, and it renders me suboptimally functional) when I reach the house; it's acknowledgment that I've learned to embrace solitude because it's something I often can't avoid.

End moment. Back to the present.

Tomorrow is the Game Jam at IMSA. First Jam I've been to that I haven't run, and I'm looking forward to it. For the swag department of the Jam, silkscreens and an UV lamp are standing in my garage, with signs warning my father's car from parking over our t-shirt making supplies.

Matt Ritter sends me emails that make me grin and spur me on to Do Things Better. My cousins have decided to try reading Shakespeare, and I wonder how much of this was triggered by my enthusiastic descriptions yesterday of how much I loved his writing when I was 11 (a little younger than they are now). My brother is home, bored, and willing to bake. Andrew is getting version control and Nikki made the 'haxor' t-shirt design I've wanted for over a year, and Tank is coming tomorrow morning. Things are going well - really, really well.

I still feel more quiet than usual inside, and I'm trying to figure out why. One more email, and then I'm just going to go and sit and wait for the eye of the hurricane to pass until my brain is churning as usual again.