Medicine ball of everyday life

When your 19lb. cat sits on your head at 5am, you realize that midnight ice cream made your extremities anxious and suddenly, you’re up. You can hear everyone else as 6am passes, but they can’t hear you.

I recently gave away about half of my clothes and built some new furniture. We are like a family.

Capitalist social media isn’t going away, so I will use what I deem helpful in a larger context, despite the reality of supporting the free market ambitions of money-grubbing freaks I personally know and dislike.

I am quitting one of the more useful social service jobs I have ever had because I am burned out. I will go make more money and less change in the world because I’m too sensitive and a bit too underpaid to rationalize my part time employment. I still have a thesis to complete and mind/body bills to pay. This decision remains fraught with dissonance.

The idea of getting up at 6:30 makes me physically nauseous. But being awake at 6:30 is audibly interesting and every ten minutes or so, my dozing partner snuggles me.

Peace is the opposite of resistance.

I hate the fuzz and sexualized violence, yet I have an unrelenting infatuation with cop shows.

We like warm towels, hugs, sweatshirts on beaches in autumn, oversized house pets, down comforters and folk art quilts, candles on the windowsills, board games, too many books, and heat blowing on our feet in my 20 year old diesel Mercedes named Stan. Trips are being planned, flights being booked, money being saved. The dream is so lived, so real, that it feels impossibly overwhelming to be so happy.

He has an international call at 9am. I will sleep in the big empty bed until its time for me to eat the breakfast I am served. We have endured so much to be here now. We don’t take a moment for granted.