Sometimes I try and imagine myself failing up into a cushy, lucrative job.
The fantasy seems nice, but I’m pretty sure I’d get bored and go crazy fast. I think I’m addicted to the stress of really fucking caring and loving what I do.
Got a tetanus shot in the arm today, I am supposed to bench press at 9am tomorrow. How well is this going to go?
While I don’t think concentration camps are the right comparison, I’ve been thinking a lot about the banality of evil lately.
What is the best way to share something with people these days asynchronously? I feel like everyone keeps on their badges and notifications and anything I send in any format will unnecessarily steal attention.
This horrific article is a great example of the banality of evil.
I’ve never read Ulysses, but The Dead was one of the first pieces of literature I ever read that felt worthy of the analysis tools I spent all of high school loathing.
I’ve had a tough few weeks personally. I thought getting back to routine would help, but honestly I’m still moody/irritable and just broadly feeling down.
I know it’s normal, but I hate feeling like I’m dragging a weight behind me.
One vacation and three deaths in the family in the last two months means I’ve barely been to the gym lately. Going four days this week and terrified my body will rebel.
My Uncle has passed. Uncle Marty lived with my parents from before I was born. Growing up I was never home alone sick. I never didn’t have a ride where I needed to go. He never missed a Little League practice, no less games. He never missed a moment that mattered in my life.
When I was 6 years old, Uncle took me to Washington DC. He wanted to show me where he lived, to take me to the museums and historical sites. We saw just about everything in 3 days, even though I kept making him come back to the Air and Space Museum. I loved Space, and he loved the planes, and we loved each other.
I always thought one day I would take that trip again with him and my own child.
My sister and I are his only niece and nephew. Just as we are the only grandchildren of my grandmother Elaine, his mother who passed just one month ago. I have been filled with more love than just about any person I know because of them. My grandmother struggled for 8 years with illness and decline before passing at 87. My uncle disappeared before our eyes in a month at 67.
I am hollow.
I’m not sure there’s any experience quite like cleaning out a grandparent/parent’s home after they’ve passed, especially when they lived there for 60 years.
I received a compliment today so deep and affecting that I am sure I will remember it for the rest of my life.
Elsa has been dying to go to a taco place she found in Baltimore started by fellow Poblanas. She announced this morning we’re going for tacos tonight “plan accordingly”.
Now that I realized it’s Cinco de Mayo I realized “plan accordingly” means get ready to wait 6 hrs for tacos.