Exercise

 (not at the gym)

I am going to simply start typing and see where we end up. 

I think I've done this before, but finding out for sure would involve pouring over my backlog of entries and THAT is a distraction. And this exercise's enemy. 

The Jenny Mustard is playing in the background, the window - boasting early October sun - and the work day was cut even shorter than usual due to a perfectly persistent blackout. (She hiccuped only once, and for precisely three minutes.) This is the perfect scenario to plunge into the cool pool of romance that writing brings me. The only thing missing is a black Starbucks iced coffee - but

1.    I am already home
2.    I refuse to pay delivery tax for most consumables - very much including coffee
3.    I have been trying to be more careful about finances. I'm in my low-spend-zone. And there's a treat on the line if I make my second goal before the year's end!

This is what instant coffee was made for. But I have already made and drank my cuppa earlier at work... My french press is clean (thanks again, past me) - I believe this is a sign for decaf. 

---Shout out to N for suggesting / buying my first bag of genuinely delicious decaf coffee. This came when I had finally found a show to get excited about and keep up with (White Lotus) wherein the hotel guests would start every morning with a gorgeous espresso. I am not usually so easily influenced, but come on - it's espresso! One of the best things in this entire world. But by the time I would watch the episodes, it would be too late for fresh brew. So N suggested decaf. I thought: 'I've tried decaf before and it tasted like pool cleaner.' But soon after realized that I had grown since then and so:

1.    I might have changed my tastes
2.    I have since expanded my mind and realized that just because I have tried one decaf once and found it to suck does not mean that all decaf will always suck. 

What I did not take into account was that N is a randomly luxurious creature. And that he would buy me a far nicer bag of coffee - decaf or otherwise - than I would have for myself. I have since always kept a going bag of the stuff in my tiny "coffee bar" area of our home. (I've tried others in the same tax bracket and none of them have compared! He really does have impeccable taste.)---

No apologies. Not for the rants. Not today. This is an exercise.

This exercise reminds me of the cool little tech tool I fell in love with in NY. It came out around this time - well, I should say a hot reboot emerged. This thing that is the updated version of the alpha-type-contraptions I saw in my classroom days. Early grades. I believe before NC era, so very early, indeed. What are these called... *googles* AlphaSmart! I can't recall for the life of me why we were allowed to even touch these things, but as soon as I felt the keys under my little pads: I was in love. While everyone else lost interest and turned to socializing, I watched the skinny, spaghetti-western screen fill with the letters I chose. I felt like a writer. Like a real creator. It felt so legitimate - especially when comparing to the bright yellow, wide-ruled, spiral notebook I had just written my latest in. (This notebook had blue-ink-drawings of the stories within it. It also had an impressive collection of confetti shreds of binder-hole strips left behind. Very much adding to the totem's already manic appearance.)

Anyway, the thing / the updated version: I peeped it in a GQ article and drooled all over it. The reason I didn't buy it is because it was around 500-600 dollars (could only imagine what it is now). Not to mention: I don't need it. I also would love an espresso machine and regular therapy, but: how often would I actually use it?? (Ha...ha?) The reason why I bring it up now: *finally breaks to put hot water on* because the idea behind it is that you just free-write - specifically without going back / editing. The ultimate idea being: you can just spill your guts for as long as humanly possible / until your partner guilts you into eating something (they're just the worst - can't they see you're in a flow??). And this will hopefully get you a far chunkier manuscript in far less time. 

I don't know that this would even work for me - would I allow myself to spill, or simply find it too maddening? To not zoom out? I do love zooming out. I wonder. (Not enough to spend hundreds... yet...) 

perhaps that will be my treat? I was honestly planning on taking myself to a pawn shop and buying myself a ring. But maybe I will do this? I'm not sure. I wish I could try one out to see if I like it. Although I equally would want my first keystrokes to be on a machine that is my own. For the first experience to be the most personal possible. 

*gets up to collect hot water / coffee / french press / glass mug*
*re-adjusts phone*
*inspects phone. its screen cracks. its case cracks. recalls when she ordered it - a refurbished number with a factory reset from ebay*

'5 years ago. Is this a lot for a phone, these days? I recall having my Juke model for about 6 years, maybe more. Long gone are the days, though.' 

Hah!
5 years is a totally acceptable time. 
Although, by the time I bought it, it was already 2 years old and pre-owned.

I suppose I should by a new phone - it just doesn't give me any joy! I am very grateful to have a phone (and even moreso for an affordable plan) but it genuinely brings me no joy to crack open that brand new phone box / get everything all set up etc... I'm not into photography, so I find it ridiculous (and at times a little grotesque) to have 9 different cameras on the thing. I don't play games on it, so I don't need an impressive storage (I'm a minimalist!). All I need is wifi (for youtube, instagram & travel) speaker (for spotify) my little apps (for paying bills/tracking finances, borrowing library books) and the ability to communicate (calls / texts / messages). I will say: the audio jack & speaker's been on the fritz for years, now, as well as the mic - resulting in only being able to make/receive calls on speaker phone. You'd be surprised at how inconvenient this becomes when you are a polite person. But I've still made it work. 

I make my calls in my home / my car (and am very usually alone, anyway) and I use a bluetooth plug-in in my car instead of the ancient aux cable I had been employing. 

Even now, considering it all: I think would rather have the alpha. Or the espresso machine. Or, honestly, the "well done!" congratulatory pawn shop jewels. 

Hm. 
I don't think I really want a lot of things. What a time to be alive. I absolutely adore being content. It's a full, cozy, beautiful feeling - so calm and complete. 

I think this will be a nice sentiment to leave on. 
I wish I had something to actually write about! I have plenty of decaf and daylight left. 

Maybe I will look through my notes. Or read! 

Socially Contrary

"Social Contrariness" is a term I read in Girl, Interrupted. It was meant to represent a symptom of disorder, a negative. 

While reading Self-Care for Adult Children... (etc.), there was an entry that focused on parents watching their children grow / how if their child is not like other children, the parent is likely to panic/see this as a negative. And how sometimes that's a good tool to define overlying issues and sometimes it's just that child evolving past their peers.

How the hell are you supposed to tell the difference? 

I understand not everything is black and white - I used to live in mostly gray areas even as a child (this is mostly why I got in trouble when I was younger. Surrounded by philistines, unable to grasp nuance: I became fed up). But when should we, as adults, check/look into something? 

When is your OCD and/or inner monologue getting the best of you? When are you focusing too much on yourself/not enough? When are you a hypochondriac and when is there something actually wrong? Furthermore: when are you not being a hypo, there is nothing wrong AND you actually have just evolved a bit? A bit past your peers? Past the neighborhood, past the fishbowl?

Made even more difficult by these people who agree with you fervently - who "OH, YEAH ME TOO IDOTHATTOO" in response to the sharings of your innermost self. All the while - "oh no, them not" because in reality: they are fooling themselves. They have put in the work to convince themselves - encased in a thick, jelly-like lie they created. They are the reason people like myself have imposter syndrome. (If only they had put as much effort into actually becoming the self they pretend to be.) 

With so many pretenders - outnumbering and far more audible than the "real ones" - how does one know when one is legitimately socially contrary because of a bit of lovely evolution, as opposed to disorder? 

All of this reminds me: recently had a thought about authentic people. A friend told me "social anxiety fears you" after I walked up to a pair of strangers to ask a question. It never really hit me that this might be unusual, just one of those things: the thing must be done, you know it, it's no one's job in particular, but it's between you and your buddy: you do it. It's efficient and logical (the opposite of me when left to my own devices on a lazy Sunday with a pizza).

Also: getting the experience of living in a brand new place (NY) / starting fresh / no preconceived notions about who I was, just made friends organically... and then returning to a mostly new crew back home: I have noticed how clearly odd I am. I really am the little creature I have always hoped to be. Sure, there are still plenty of people who see me in a light I no longer prefer to be in, but their opinions of me are none of my business. Anyway! I noticed how odd I was and it really made me wonder: am I actually "socially contrary"? And if so: is it in the way of the evolution, after all these years of earnest work on myself? Or that of disorder?

(...Could be both... I'd be cool with that, I suppose.)

Funny

I may have been reading books / listening to audiobooks and playing podcasts about wellness and self-improvement lately, but there's still that snarky younger version of myself inside of me. She's only just gotten the wheel (see previous blog posts). I'm gonna let her be petty about some shit that doesn't matter in the grand scheme. Nobody's perfect.

This may or may not be quick, jolting and/or disjointed
Just a random thought that I've had on and off throughout the eternity of meeting people. 

These people.
These people who are convinced they are the "funny friend". 
There are many breeds of these people. But the type I would like to type about today is as follows:

(Their inner monologue, probably:) I watched many movies and shows in the 80s / 90s / 00s and memorized what line was said right before the studio audience laughed and now I say those lines all the time through almost random intervals - and certainly when I feel as though others are not paying enough attention to me - and wait for the sound of the studio audience. If I memorize what the clever character said when all the other characters realized how clever they were, I will obviously then be just as clever. I am also armed with an arsenal of lines from well-known media that I can say to the other person/people around me and sometimes they will laugh. And I will allow myself not to realize that this second tactic is not actually the result of humor, but of nostalgia. As well as, maybe, the other person/people congratulating themselves that they remembered a quote from somewhere. Regardless of which approach I take to "humor", I am absolutely hilarious and therefore very fun to be around and also I will continue to spam the living shit out of the tiny rolodex of quotes that I have accumulated until I die. Ooh, maybe I'll pick up a few new ones from a facebook post/video!

If this doesn't make sense to you: congratulations! You probably haven't been driven mad by these (probably) completely harmless people. You have likely risen above the tediousness that is being irritated by them. I haven't. I don't know that I ever will. We're not there yet. 

Either that or you are this person. No further comment. Okay, maybe: READ A BOOK AND FIND YOUR DNA.

For those of us who are also stupidly petty about this: this type of person's origin is just a centimeter away from one that I have roots in. I was younger: watched the media / intook the quotes / did impressions of Ace Ventura... the whole nine! But at some point, my frontal lobe developed and I realized a few things. There are, for example, ways to apply some quotes in a way that is fewer/farther between and actually clever/appropriate. One where yes, you are relying on someone else's line, but you are repurposing it in a way that is inherently your own. Additionally: there are certainly people (one person in particular / my bff) who I quote nostalgic shit with/at all the time. We both enjoy, we both laugh and kick our little feet and then we return to our own personalities and proceed with the conversation. 

There are funny people in my life. These funny people are funniest when they are not quoting something. When they are being authentically themselves, or even throwing in theatrics, but in a way that is very them. 

I know. I need to get a life. But as an incredibly gifted, hilarious and authentic person myself: it just really gets to me. (Somebody out there just said "AND HUMBLE, TOO HAHAH" and completely ruined my joke. Because they are idiots and do not understand nuance/subtlety/jokes. So they struggle their short little leggies in the pool of humor to try their best to capitalize on this totally serious thing I just said.
These people are the worst.
And must die.)

"And That's My Person" - Katya

Is it healthy to depend on one person for everything? Should this one little person be "All"?

One annoying ex would say "what is 'should'?"
And he has a point. On this and not much else. 

I just mean: is it realistic. I mean: is this the standard we've set for ourselves. Is anyone actually doing this? Successfully??

I think it's a crazy amount of pressure to put on anyone (for them to be "all"). These people who have similar expectations for their parents, for example, always end up drowning in their own misery. Blaming their parents for this and that. It's all their fault. Everything that I don't like about me / every Jungian shadow of mine exists solely because of them. These people, meanwhile, are never taking responsibility for their own actions / what they've done with what they were given (there are obviously exceptions to this / I've heard the horror stories / I've read them / I've written them / this entry is not about these exceptions / this entry will not be "all"). Yes, your parents have likely caused some damage. But you, at some point, were handed agency, presumably. Or at least the option to legally obtain it.  

There are so many friends we make throughout life: some that we make excuses for or roll our eyes at lovingly and say "oh, that's our Kelly!". We have extended family who do not share the same views as us (on how to be polite, for instance. On politics, for another). When do we roll our eyes and when do we "pick our battles"? When is it "our job" to enlighten others on the difference of our opinion(s)? At what point do you throw your hands up? And what then: do you walk away forever and never see that person again? Or do you try to have a relationship with that person - just, maybe, a little more shallowly than you would typically have with a loved one?

If you do attempt these shallower-relationship boundaries with this friend / family, is it boundaries, or is it dishonest/disingenuous? I know I, for one, have attempted having shallower relationships with these certain people and I simply am not able. (Perhaps years of therapy and tool-creating/accessing will help, but until then...) It would necessitate becoming another me while I am around them. Which would necessitate creating one. And also: shedding this other self temporarily while I live my "authentic" life elsewhere / until the next time I cross paths with this person I am supposed to be shallow with/around. And in case it needs to be said: I am certainly not interested in putting in the work of creating / becoming / un-becoming this other self if in the end: that's not even a healthy way to deal with the original issue/interact with the person.

 I've gotten a bit off track.

"Back to the beginning is the rule".
So if you have a significant other: does the rule still apply? Is this one person supposed to be "all"? If not: how much is acceptable/healthy to skim over/"forgive" (for lack of a better word) and when does this "forgiveness" bleed into "making excuses for"? Obviously we are typically a little more forgiving of our friends since we do not have to live with them for the rest of our lives / we do not expected to have any sort of union with them / very typically these friends will not "have access" to our bodies in the way a significant other is likely to have. That I understand. But what are the marks? Where are the boundaries? We are now being told to not accept less than we deserve, but what does that mean? Obviously I have stated in plenty of entries across blogosphere that I would rather be alone than with someone who subtracts value from my life/doesn't add any to it. Duh. I love hanging out with me. (Omg what is this: my peace? I love it!!) But what is the line? For spouses, friends, family? And when "should" we step in and tell them / try to expand their minds and views vs. just learning to let go and pick our battles? 

Dixon Ti-Ponder-oga

*READS ONE PSYCH BOOK*
**I have been reading / watching / listening to books & content in the social sciences field. I have also been - perhaps because of this - watching my younger self take the helm and finally get to do whatever she wants (with the only adult being me / I'm certainly not going to yell at her). In doing so: I've been giving myself a lot more opportunity to "catch myself thinking", to paraphrase the Bahamas. I've finally been pondering again. In a big enough way to fuel at least a couple of blogs. I have missed this feeling. Reflection. Heavy considering. Processing. I feel most fortunate today. This is one of my absolute favorite activities in the world - a gift, to be certain.**

Regarding growth / self-betterment: must I actively/always think about the people I have had to "get through", the people who treat/ed me in a way I do not accept? Or is moving on enough? Can moving on include not thinking about them until someone else brings them up, or is that a kind of avoidance or burial? I would rather have space than obsess over something. 

Once I'm done with something, I tend to really be done with it (obviously there are exceptions). But I know I have been this way since fairly young, so I wonder (now in my thirties) if this has ever been an acceptable way to go about this. 

The (2) female role models in my family had a pattern of:
1. explosion / yelling / fighting in some capacity
2. absence
3. reappearance, while certainly never discussing that thing that just happened / never apologizing and simply pretending nothing had changed. (Which seems Avoidant.)

The (1) male role model pretended everything was honky dory because he needed everyone's approval / to seem like a really sweet lovable guy. (Which seems Passive.)

We all have our issues. 

What I'm trying to say is: I do not wish to be one of these people. I do not wish to match. I would rather not run away from my problems. I would rather confront them head on and have a discussion / if need be: a fight (humans have emotions and those of us pretending not to are only hurting ourselves & others). Address whatever it is that is currently bothering - preferably without bringing up all of this score-keeping bologna / shit from the past (something else my two women role models had in common/that drove me bananas). Either:
    a.) come to a solution / action plan of sorts
    b.) not find a solution but at least express yourselves / get "it" off of chest(s).

I only hope I'm doing the right things. And I don't want to ask "just someone", because I really want to feel confident in the answer. I guess there comes a time where: as long as you can live with yourself / be happy with what you do, you're good. But I want to be better than my last self / I want to improve. And I think I could do so in the avenue if I only knew that I was in the right direction. 

Looks like I need guidance.
Either religion or therapy. 
And I like my lazy Sunday mornings. 
So I guess I had better get some health insurance. 

Commentary on a video nobody cares about

 After watching the video by Soft White Underbelly "Three Generations of Trauma- Lynanda, Nikki and Trinity" (which covers the edited life stories of a grandmother, mother and daughter), I have some thoughts. 

Grandmother Lynanda told a story in which she was the victim and she pushed through and now is all about love. Love, love, love. It's all there is. It's all you need, it's the theme of her life and the only thing that kept her going, etc... She was treated like shit/taken advantage of and abused in her very early years on this earth and - turns out - fulfilled the prophecy of continuing the generational trauma. Perhaps not by doing the abuse/treating like shit (of her child/children) directly, but by looking the other way while other parties (that she had welcomed in her/her children's life/ves) did the horrific acts. By letting it happen. 

She tries to cover her lack of courage with this story line about how "we're not so different, you and I" / how she's all about forgiveness of the people who do horrible things. Because I guess she's the Dalai fucking Lama. No cowardice here. Reason for everything. Just don't close your heart, ya know?

This prophecy fulfilling certainly was not addressed in Lynanda's story - only what happened to her. It wasn't necessarily made clear to me until the second woman (Nikki) explained her life in a nutshell. Pretty early on mentioned how she (Nikki) was abused by two men (who L let in to their lives), many separate occasions. When N was explaining all of this, all L did was get rigid and squirmy and silently nodded her head. It took the host of this strange operation to cut in and say something to the effect of "and L, how did you feel about this? Did you not know this was going on?" to which L explains how when she "found out" (whatever that means) about the first guy, she took N to the doctor's office to confirm that it was happening - essentially to prove that N wasn't lying - and followed up by going to the police. L alleges that the police expressed that they "thought it would be a better thing to not press charges at her age. So we didn't do anything further."

L leaves the stage. The floor is, once again, N's. 

N then proceeds with her story, mentioning that she was always promiscuous/from even twelve years old, she can recall times men would tell her how sexy she was. How she would date older guys but "everyone in the world was older than me at that point". Then mentions how she started drinking and smoking pot in fifth grade. And if she's telling all of this in a linear fashion: Jesus Christ. (Bares mentioning that this is the first and only point L even bothers to feign ignorance/surprise by acting out a "whaaa?" kind of scowl toward N. This is in response to the fifth grade partying. Not the twelve year old dating or the who-knows-how-young abuse.)

What I would like to focus on, at this point: 

1. L mentions nothing of the second man's abuse (could this be because it was L's brother this time/a little too close for L's comfort? To have to admit that her own sibling had done this? To have to face exposing him and - in doing so - taint the way he sees her?)

2. L took her daughter to the police and allegedly the police discouraged L from reporting it. Which could happen. But then what? L just shrugged it off and said "yeah, I guess you're right. Welp, see ya! Thanks for all your help and insights!"

3. L says, in the video, the police "thought it would be a better thing to not press charges at her age." She says it in a way that seems as though she could have just shoe-horned that last bit about the alleged denial being "about her" (N) so that L could keep herself successfully hidden. From being exposed as an abuser apologist. Or just downright coward. "It wasn't about protecting me! OR that POS man! It was all for her! And also it was the police's idea, yeah, that's the ticket!"

4.  L feels as though she's covered her ass well enough for the meat of the story. And to stick the landing: "So we didn't do anything further," as she artfully decides to swish her face lovingly to her daughter. WE? You have GOT to be kidding me. Oh so you and your, what, 9 year old child had a conference and came to a decision? About this terrifying thing that you brought onto her? And surely you were anything but persuasive?

It's clear as day. Never questioned a person's character so quickly. And yet, the comments on the video: 

Others go on to say how incredible all three of them are and how strong. I know two things can be true at once, but this is not one of those times: strong? Incredible? Maybe in the way of "Wow, what a piece of work that lady is. Incredible." 

How is it that this can be clear as hell to me but not to the others? Is it just the audience videos like his tend to bring in? Or more specifically: the audience who tend to comment on videos like these?

I know this is a hyper-specific example, but this kind of thing happens all the time. Things are devastatingly clear to me while nobody around me has even an inkling. I know incredibly intelligent people. And I'm not lonely enough to be brilliant, so what IS it?

Some of it, naturally, can be chalked up to how we "believe what we want" in certain intervals. Whether it be to protect ourselves (from truth/trauma or guilt) or just to make things easier (a type of avoidance, perhaps). Not being able to / not allowing yourself to believe something, sure. But what about the astounding remaining mass which complete the percentage of un-knowers? This has bothered me since a terribly young age and I fear I am no closer to the answer. And I can't ask anyone about it because everyone I know doesn't pick up on these things I pick up on. 

Or is it secret option number two: There's absolutely nothing actually going on underneath the surface and my brain is in pieces. Ideas traveling down neural pathways that don't even exist. I would say it's time for therapy, but I don't want to end up in buckles. 

Proof of History

Why is it so heartbreaking to not have someone around who knows your history? Who - in one way or another - grew up with you? Who remembers you when?

I think it's sad in another way to only hold onto people because you have known them so long. Or because you are family. (I have no wish to do this. If people don't align with each other in important ways and are unwilling to change/grow, I think it's best sometimes to separate.)

I have no old ties. No blood family. Certainly no one from high school or earlier - I barely made it out of there alive. (It was really fun at times/a nice escape from home, but I obviously didn't make any lasting bonds / no one who earnestly tries to connect / who I currently see. Just a bunch of people with different lives.) Because of this lack of old ties: It feels like I suddenly didn't exist until my late twenties (when I met my best friend). Like everything that happened before has been erased. But why? I know it happened - I was there! It feels embarrassing to admit that I need witnesses to my past to prove that it happened. Not to mention: why does "what happened" matter so much? I think it's the strangest thing. I've always been so self-reliant and independent - Feels so strange to miss the mark here. 

I'm ever grateful for the beautiful people who surround me - these are the non-toxic acrylics that fill the canvas, that create the art. It's just so strange to say goodbye to your history. And 36 seems an odd age to do it. And this seems an odd way to do so. 

I don't know that anyone will understand the layer and complication to the scenario that led me to lose the last piece of my past, but I guess that happens. Some of these people still have their high school or college friends / their childhood neighbors / every last member of their family. Some of them could even visit their childhood bedroom - left untouched! So this feels very much like "just one more thing" I'll have to go through alone, in a way. But hey, maybe I'll start to forget the other stuff I went through solo since I will no longer have someone to remind me that it happened?

The whole thing just seems strange. But I'd rather have no old ties than have any who don't actually care about me. (I refuse to feel the kind of loneliness one can feel in the company of others.) And now I will have more time to spend with the precious peaches who do treat me well. But as a friend and I like to say: "Two things can be true at once". And this will also be difficult to navigate. 

May 2025 and I'm still writing in this goddamn blog.

Well lordy-loo.

It's been a minute. 

The good news: taxes were a fuck of a time, but I have accomplished them. received my five cents. Avoided prison. Thank you, government. *salutes* And as long as I don't move out of state again, this year should be way easier! I would like to say this is just a silly joke to make, but really: when have I not randomly picked up and moved? Fingers crossed!

I still work at the ol' law firm / loving it / kicking much ass / taking many names / my boss is bomb and my co-workers are bad the bone. I've still been dealing with some turmoil involving family, but at least I have been able to connect with the chosen fam and either bitch about it or remember nothing has to be that big. Or both. 

Came out of April ready to jump off a damn cliff (not really, but you get it) and came into May grounded, grateful, powerful and magnanimous. (April death wishes bring May hugs and kisses, amiright, fellas?)

In a bit of a waiting period with a few things, but it - for once - doesn't feel like being in limbo. It's just waiting. And knowing I can't do anything until the decision is made or maybe someone else pulls a trigger. And completely enjoying the in-between time where I finally don't have to be bloody active. I'll get the "call". Until then: going about my own day and enjoying myself. 

++++++

I didn't get to have my silly little birthday this year. And not in a "it's 2020 and nobody's having their birthday, girl, get over yourself". More in a "man, I don't ask for much and things have been nuts and the one thing I was hanging onto pretty tightly was this stupid excuse to do something really nice / the one of two holidays (I know that's not technically one, but what tf is it?) that I actually care about and look forward to has been snatched from me and not because of something I did / some bad decision I've made"... kind of way. 

But I'm also not a toddler, so I guess I should get over it. I will. Not yet. 
Not pissed / just thrown and bummed (sounds like a fine Saturday night to me, HONEY. ifykyk).

In being thrown, however, I've been jolted into reality. Like when you've been driving on the highway at night for too long and "time travel" / get brought back to the driver's seat by some song or some lights or some car or some animal. And honestly: it's fierce. 

I'm even more awake than usual - and just in time to enjoy not dealing with the mess of shit I was dealing with in December! Hellyeah. Let's hear it for timing. 

++++++

I've got an impending dinner with my sis from another miss and it can 
not
happen
soon enough. 

We were supposed to see each other in April! Nearly a month ago, now, and I'm DYING. It's such a damn privilege having friends like this in one's life. One's nearby. One's in NY. And one will be having dinner with me - God willing - tomorrow. 

++++++

I'm running again! It's real slow-goin', but we're gettin' there. I forgot how good it feels to run out whatever dumb frustrations and have a clearer head (and some endorphins for your troubles).

Maybe I'll go for a run today <3