The Rewards of Forgetting Your Purpose | 3rd August 2011 | 20:20 PDT

I woke up today with more purposefulness than usual! I was going to this amazing new area of Vancouver that I was quite excited about – I leaped out of bed got ready and skipped to the lift, riding it down, I was thinking about how to execute this amazing plan of mine.

Someone else got in and partaking in the usual lift etiquette, we mumbled something like “Hi” at each other. Ground floor arrived, being kind I let him out first, he didn't say thanks... Sigh... Fine! I'm feeling chipper, he's not going to get to me and I follow him through the lobby to the front door.

He opens the doors for himself and then slams it after him, in my face. All that positivity and happiness I had for the day ended up being exhaled in a huge long huff of hard pronounced swear words.

It's OK, I wanted to do this to the door anyway (via

I really should be used to it by now, but it still shocks me. Oh well, I instantly calm and I reopened the door and walk off in an automatic direction.

I've gone into such a deep automatic mode, that the next thing I know, I'm in this yellow discount supermarket staring at a shelf full of different varieties of honey, thinking to myself... This is lovely, but is this what I really planned for the day?

I walk around the store looking for something that will trigger what my initial day plan was going to be, massively failing what it was, I leave the store and I notice these cardboard boxes. Yes, that was it... I think. I had a thought about a cardboard box recently for some sort of use so I'll pick one up and see if that contents me.

It just feels like a visual massage, something about being possession of a cardboard box makes you happy, maybe because they were such a valuable commodity as a child that now I'm an adult I can have as many cardboard boxes as my heart desires.

I walk home with this box and plonk this banana box on the table and just stare at it. I can't remember what my initial plan was that day, and I just don't care. I now have a clean and gleaming cardboard box in my room, the world is good again.


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