It’s been a long, tiring yet uneventful week, and suddenly July is gone too. Running on a treadmill, the belt of the year goes around and around and we’re just trying to keep our balance.
It’s sunny today and much cooler than it’s been, a little fall sneak preview. And here we are, school around the corner for so many, in the exact same position as last year because people keep perpetuating the pandemic by pretending it’s over.
It’s not over.
At this rate, it may never be over.
Just get the vaccination, people.
And that’s all I have for you, really, this week. Today. That brief contemplation of the passage of time.
Watching Simone Biles fly through the air, shooting up higher than what seems probable, it’s possible to imagine her as more, as beyond merely human.
When it comes to her athleticism, maybe that’s true. She’s extraordinary and we’re lucky to watch her push a sport far past its settled boundaries.
Simone Biles is a person. An ordinary person who can do extraordinary things. And her talent belongs to no one but herself.
She doesn’t owe it to “her country” to risk her life for our entertainment. This is her journey, and to watch people–largely middle-aged white men–castigate her for denying them the opportunity to gleefully anticipate her failure is nauseating.
Frankly I think they were hoping to see her gravely injure herself. Hoping to quell that jolt of inferiority they feel watching her.
Hoping to say “See, she’s not so special. She’s not infallible,” as though “infallible” is the mere minimum she can do to be “worthy.”
As if “infallible” is the mere minimum she can do to be worthy.
But of course she’s fallible. She’s a person. A mere mortal with so much talent, so much dedication, so much drive it’s easy, for a moment, to believe she’s more that that.
But she doesn’t need to be more than that. No one does.
The Olympics are underway, and I can’t help feeling like I’m always looking in the wrong direction and missing the moments. Maybe it’s because of the time difference; maybe it’s because of social media reeling off the results, one after another after another.
It’s sunny and hot today, no ambiguity in the sky, it’s definitely blue, though a little bit washed out from the heat. I don’t like to run the air but today it’s necessary.
This weekend was a baking push, I made a Martha Stewart recipe that turned out beautifully, didn’t hold together when cut, but tasted fantastic. Overall, I’d call that a win.
And I also made chocolate cheesecake bars with both raspberry and caramel sauces. I used leftover caramel in my coffee this morning.
And with that, I’m once more unto the breach that is Monday. Have a great day.
In honor of my bizarre elevator encounter recounted in the tweet below, today we’re going with an elevator photo for our #ThursdayTen from the photographer we can only believe is deliberately supplying us, “cottonbro.”
Using the above image as a prompt, write a ten word story.
When you find people who speak your language, hold on to them. I don’t mean whatever language you speak natively, that would be a difficult grip to maintain.
I mean your personal language.
People who take the ride with you when your train of thought goes off the rails. People who see humor in the same things, tragedy in the same things.
It’s rarer than you think.
It’s really what life is, largely, making connections. Some are looser than others, and some are longer than others. And sometimes, not that often, you find people who get you.
You can’t assume that everyone will, though maybe you’re one of those extremely gettable people, in which case you’re probably too busy getting your cult off the ground to read this. And sometimes that click is so easy, you feel like everything will be like it.
So enjoy it, savor it, and keep it when it does. And also have a great Wednesday.