Yesterday, while surrounded by the comforts of the controlled environment in which I live, I found myself thinking about how rarely I step out of my comfort zone. MAYBE I take risks while writing? PERHAPS? But mostly I tend to make choices that keep me in situations in which unexpected things rarely happen, I have control over the variables of the environment, and I mostly interact with people who are like me. And I thought ,WHY, AS A WRITER, WOULD I EVER LIVE THIS WAY? Which is why, last night, over a controlled and comfortable dinner, Morrison and I signed up for a falconry class, because if A PEREGRINE FALCON (THE WORLD’S FASTEST ANIMAL) LANDING ON YOUR HAND IS NOT THE VERY DEFINITION OF STEPPING OUT OF ONE’S COMFORT ZONE THEN I TRULY DO NOT KNOW WHAT IS BUT YOU GUYS IT’S DEFINITELY NOT EXPERIMENTING WITH NEW WAYS TO EAT SWEET POTATOES OR READING BOOKS THAT SHOUT YOUR OWN BELIEFS BACK AT YOU.