In my sleep, I saw us walking into a book store. She went around, looking at this and that, while I went to the counter and asked for a particular title. It wasn’t in stock. For whatever reason, I knew it definitely was, and went behind the counter, picked up my uniform and nametag, and searched through the system. Sure enough, there it was. But once I’d found it, I couldn’t leave. My shift wasn’t over. So she waited for me, wandering the store until my frantic workday was over.

I’ve been awake since 4:45, when my alarm went off as planned. I waited for the bus, listened in on a conversation in French — I was practicing, in a sense, you see — and continued to read a book that I’d started reading several months ago and never finished. In the bit I read this morning, the narrator and his son were climbing a mountain, the son getting tired and cranky. They set up camp for the night as the author meandered into a dialogue regarding quality. I still don’t quite understand it, or at least how the author would like me to. That’s the problem with me and philosophy texts; sometimes I find myself just reading the words, unable to put the meaning together, my thoughts drifting away from focus. And then I’m lost. Tired and cranky, and I stop climbing the mountain. This is why I first stopped reading this book, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance.

But really, I understand what the author is saying completely, I just don’t allow myself to realize it. It’s similar to my new web site; mostly complete, entirely functional, but not exactly how I want it presented. And so that’s the delay with this site, my definition of quality is far too literal, and for whatever reason I don’t want to redefine it how the author would like me to. Or more precisely, in context of the narrator’s dilemma, have quality lose its definition entirely.

You see, I know what quality is even without defining it. Just like I don’t need to jump over the counter to find the exact book I want, and especially how I don’t need to spend the entire day there long after I’ve completed my objective. It’s all about steps, right? The mountain will be climbed in time, and the view will be spectacular, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t rest.