It’s a little bit hazy today, with a sky of an indeterminate color. We’re balancing on the tippy top of summer’s peak, fall beckoning on the other side.
I’ve been thinking a lot about how much has changed in the last almost two years.
Almost two years.
And how normal somethings have become.
How determined to end all of humanity some people have become.
As the time has flowed like water, our world changing forever due, at the very best, to ignorance, or, more likely, malfeasance.
We are likely to have fewer healthcare workers than we ever had. We are likely to have more overall vaccine resistance than we ever had, from people who don’t have the faintest understanding of what they’re resisting, despite their claims otherwise.
If they did, they wouldn’t.
It feels like a downward slope of a rollercoaster, and not just here, globally. And the people who wanted to “get us” will be gotten too.
What a stupid waste.
Anyway, I’m not sure if this really counts as wisdom when it’s mainly rueful. But that’s Wednesday, have a good one.
Nothing is working right today. I don’t know if it’s me or it.
So I am behind in my posting, with a little bit of a scramble to get it done. Mmm. Scramble. Must be lunch time.
And yet a pair of headphones that I’d completely written off and left to die an electricityless death suddenly sprang back to life with a new charge.
Feels like a metaphor.
Let’s take it as a metaphor.
It’s sunny and coolish, I think, and it feels far more Wednesday than Tuesday, but it’s not the first time that’s happened. With everything working correctly at the moment, I’ll call it a day and a post.
I’m both focused and scattered today, explain that one. Focusing on my scatteredness?
Scattering my focus?
Who’s to say.
It’s brightly sunny but not August hot, and I can’t help but start to wonder if somehow the planet is off its merry march around the sun. It feels like September.
The trees do not agree with me.
I had what can only be described as “a weekend,” it wasn’t particularly anything, really, as I sat here contemplating the virus spewing forth and disseminating itself, 100,000 willing Lollapalooza vectors per day streaming out of the venue and into the rest of the city and suburbs.
I’m seeing more masks again.
It’s nice not to be the only one.
But still, it didn’t have to be this way.
Anyway, that’s it for Monday, my brain wants to flit on to other things. Have a great day.
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.
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.