Out on I-80, my wheel was slipping like crazy. All I did was speed up a bit so I wouldn’t get stuck having to brake, while some passed slowly, but I jerked around like the wheels lost traction or control.

But I held course just fine. Is the mix of cold with uneven tire pressure really that big of a deal? My back-right tire is three psi below the other three. I’m not entirely sure. There’s no ice or slush, but I’m not super well-versed in dealing with below-freezing driving conditions.

Perhaps it’s like skiing, how you glide over the powder when it’s just right.

Not wanting to risk anything unnecessarily, I pulled off at the Mercer exit. I could reroute through there on the way to Hermitage anyway. One of the CPR Cellphone Repair locations is there.

Since a small black spot appeared at the top of my screen, I need to get a replacement before my warranty claim window runs out at the end of next month. I’d already filed a couple of days prior but wanted to check in person to see if they had a part available for my issue—and then I could get to wandering among other activities.

Ever since I “accidentally” threw my phone down during a fit of anger at my mom last year, I’ve had screen issues. Really, I was throwing something else while I had my phone in my hand, and both hit the ground.

A long green streak formed vertically in the middle of my screen. Then it flashed purple. Eventually it became a persistent white.

Dealing with aftermarket glass has not been ideal.

Although… I’d worked those imperfections to my advantage to an extent.

Way back, I had been approved to get the aftermarket screen replaced again through the claim system because I still saw a grainy texture and a greenish hue at certain brightness levels on the initial repair. Sometimes there would be a sudden flash. Quality either wasn’t there in the part to begin with, or the installation had some issues.

Thing is, I just never went to get that approved replacement done despite it being paid for. It was already a hassle getting the first one done. But in reality, I just got carried away with life. Turns out that busy worked out to my advantage, because later on I dropped and cracked my screen in the driveway. So, with an already approved claim, I got the screen replaced. Turns out there wasn’t a time limit, and I easily refiled.

Now here I am with a black spot. It’s where the dynamic island sits at the top of the screen for the iPhone 15 Pro.

Honestly, I still miss my iPhone 13 Mini. I hate that they discontinued the mini releases—so much more utility and ease of holding, less weight, and pocket space.

This phone is better for a load of reasons like battery life, screen resolution, and camera quality, but it still has major trade-offs—mainly those I’ve referenced.

I started to come up toward Mercer. Basically nothing to do there as far as I know, but they have a beautiful courthouse. As I drove near, I went through this cool underpass tunnel. You come out to see the domed building in the distance atop a hill, surrounded by houses and trees.

Sheetz always has a free air machine, so I pulled in there and evened out my tire pressure. I frequent Sheetz far more than I acknowledge.

When I got to Hermitage, I decided I’d first go for a walk somewhere. So I picked Walmart, just loop around and browse to get my step count up. While it’s hard in the winter, I still want to try and meet my daily goal consistently. Then I’d move on to cell repair and personal documentation work. This is the personal documentation. I’ve fallen so behind on journaling.

After wrapping up my walk, I headed to CPR. There’s one customer already there—two tech guys are helping him out with some phone issues. I’m told they’ll be right with me in a bit.

It’s a small building, a white square room with dark carpet. Nearby, I sat at a wood table positioned by the large front window. There are four orange metal bar stools.

G.I. Joe was playing from a television mounted on the wall. I craned my neck, almost straining, staring on as the theme played on the screen. I’ve never seen the show, but I’d seen the toys and heard about it—mostly before my time.

This episode opens with a serene shot of a dragonfly sitting on the surface tension of still waters, a circular ripple going out from where it had landed. Suddenly, a fish splashes up and eats it, and immediately the fish is consumed by a crocodile.

I don’t like that message. But yeah, it stuck.

The two tech guys wrap up with the guy. He gives them $10 for the aid.

“Gonna go get McDonald’s now,” he says to them in a slightly compressed voice.

He waddles out, and the younger of the two techs comes up to me to inquire about my issue. I explained my problem, showing the spot and claim receipt. He goes to the back to check if the part is in.

There’s no part there. But they explain to me they have a new system instead of ordering upon meeting or just hoping it’s in stock by chance. Instead, the insurance ships the part to the chosen repair shop after the filing happens, to avoid any mix-ups.

Works for me. I’ll just call in a few days to see if it’s come in yet.

Afterwards, I headed to Staples. I wanted to check if they had any black sticky notes. I saw some on Amazon, but I’ve grown tired of ordering things online these days—waiting for them to show up mostly.

Staples didn’t have them. I did realize I really like the feel of the Cherry XRTFY keyboard; it’s definitely something I might try and save up for. And I found they had some cheaper USB-C chargers, so I bought one. I lost my main one a while back. I think I left it at my aunt’s house on Christmas, but I don’t want to bother her with looking for it and coordinating a return.

For some reason (and I hate when this happens), those Staples workers were super self-absorbed and careless without any sort of respect or sense of courtesy.

They didn’t acknowledge me standing at the counter and just sort of drifted over, aloof amidst their conversation. As if it’s completely fine for me to wait longer while they do nothing important. Just gave me the item when it was done, no well-wishes or kindness. At least they did it, I guess.

Maybe some people would like that type of interaction. I found it awkward.

So, with nothing really important left to do, I head to Starbucks to get some journaling done. I get about three entries out of the way.

Here I am, weeks later, now unburdened enough to sit down and write out new entries to publish. It doesn’t make the documentation inaccurate, right? Just… somewhat skewed because I’m a little more disconnected from the moment. So, before it completely fades away into the recesses of my mind, I’ll try some extraction.

Yeah, I can’t force depth and reflection every time. I’m not a deep philosopher, always considering the meanings of moments. Usually. But some I held as significant enough in my mind to stand out as worth documenting, at least to me.

Honestly though, while I’m able to focus, I hate working at Starbucks. There’s rarely any ergonomic seating conducive to comfort and using my laptop without hunching over or slouching in some way.

I sat down next to some girl there, since the space was relatively filled up. Hopefully I didn’t make her uncomfortable. I don’t think I’m the type to look like a disturbance or distraction. Or to smell like one. In my peripheral vision, as I focused on my typing, I saw she was deep into hers as well, typing away at something just like me.

Later on, I needed to go to the bathroom. Not just pee—I had to shit, so I sat down. And as my pants came down, my wallet fell. Almost fell in the fucking toilet. Thankfully, it just slipped down into my underwear around my legs. Perfect timing and catch.

Starbucks bathrooms are some of the best. You have it to yourself, they’re usually clean, water tends to be hot, and while they don’t have paper towels, they do have decent airdryers. Most seem to use a Dyson Airblade v-shaped dryer. Works well for me every time.

After I felt like I’d done enough, I started to get hungry again.

Later on, I did some more wandering, went to Hobby Lobby first to get more of my step goal out of the way. Circling, but also browsing a little bit.

I spotted a bunch of tomato timers, which was a pleasant discovery because I’d never seen so many before. I’ve only found them used, in thrift stores. I guess they had to come from somewhere first.

And I saw a piece of wall décor reading, “BRINGING BACK COMMON SENSE ONE EXECUTIVE ORDER AT A TIME.” I won’t express how I feel.

Next, I popped into Lowe’s and got more steps out. There’s not much to behold.

I passed by some employee forward-leaning onto some stacks of items.

“What’s going on?” he says to me in a passing greeting.

“Hey,” I reply, my voice coming out deeper and more reserved than I had anticipated.

My days really don’t have much to them, huh?

Then, with my hunger getting heavier, I went to Sheetz. I’ve had a newfound item of preference: the breakfast quesadilla. It’s cheaper, and you get a lot of substance for what you’re paying. Scrambled eggs, sausage, cheese, jalapeños. I really like it.

Still seeking to reach my step goal, I paced circles around the shelves as I waited for my order to be called out.

There were a few girls I accidentally kept getting in the way of, and I tried to alter my path while keeping momentum. But my order was ready soon after.

As I walked out with my food, some man in one of those Carhartt classic brown jackets and a hat and I almost ran into one another.

“Excuse me,” I half-said, enunciating dryly under my breath.

“How you doing?” he replies nearly instantaneously and louder, neither of us seeming to process what the other said quite yet.

“Good,” I rattle out quickly in response, since we’re about to not be facing each other anymore.

Happened quicker than you’d be able to read this all out.

What’s the point in documenting this type of moment?

These are the core memories I must access again.

Rather than eat my quesadilla in the parking lot there, I head to Giant Eagle in town again. I keep darting back and forth across Hermitage, illusion of activity as time slips away. I park, eat, and head into the store.

I finish my step goal in there, and head back out to my car. While walking through the lot, I nearly slip and fall in some brown slush. Luckily, I quickly regained my balance.

Went home, and Mia’s in there sitting at the table. I ask her about how Mock Trial went. She had her first trial today. She explains somewhat reluctantly that it went well, but they don’t have the results yet.

Then I walked over to the fridge as she got back to her laptop and notebook. I dug around and pulled out pepperoni and a pack of hot habanero and jalapeño pepper jack cheese I bought. Put them between some bread, and made some paninis.

Off to bed.

Yeah, so I lose complete track of everything and I have no capability of even remembering what happened on a given day exactly. But I want to try and track it nonetheless, right? Is it just low effort? Low memory capacity mostly?

Limited by whatever, I don’t know. But this is for the sake of archival, memory point establishment—not for the sake of “uh yeah I managed to type out a journal entry per day.” I mean, it’d definitely be real good if I were able to just have it pan out that way instead of having to sift through snippets of moments, jot-downs in my notes.

But for my mind, it’s sort of unrealistic. And I’m satisfied enough with this, adding a bit of context to random notes and photos floating around. However, that doesn’t mean I’ll completely neglect depth every single time in my entries. If a realization comes about, I’ll hopefully document it instead of just talk about the concrete experiences.

Does over-exerting a need for documentation prevent me from actually experiencing the life I want to hold onto? Maybe I’ll only have writing to write about one day.

Why do I feel the need to be so diligent?

I guess I may be sad about the fact that some days will simply be lost to time because I didn’t bother to establish an access point.

-Liam A. Reese

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