I’m not journaling. The pretty notebook I use to share my thoughts and feelings in lies nearby on the floor. I’m only feet away from getting it done, but my avoidant-urge is strong, my counselor’s admonishments about the importance of letting things out notwithstanding. I’d blame my depression, but using that as an excuse when it’s a chronic condition is as valid as blaming my … Continue reading Not journaling, definitely not crying.
I’m not writing much these days. Heat, apathy, and sickness, both my own and familial, have contributed to my sense of futility and ennui. I’m uninterested in almost everything, save for bad news. It’s good when one’s view of a dark and depressing world is confirmed. Bring on the stories about climate change and ugly humans. Show me dead things and societal collapse. Starting Michelle … Continue reading First times, revisited.
June 21, 2021. Festering and wallowing. We don’t know words the way we think we know words. A news story on my morning feed trumpeted the “hefty fine” a moronic, fireworks-spewing joyrider faced: one thousand dollars. The fine is many things – ridiculous, a joke, insufficient – but hefty it’s not. I’m left with the image of Dr. Evil and low financial demands in my … Continue reading Festering and wallowing.
When I was studying law, I came across a term I’d never heard of, but loved. Condonation, the act of overlooking an offense. It’s a pardon, often implied, given by carrying on with business as usual. You treat the sinner like no sin happened. It happens a lot in family law. Condonation in the eyes of the law means you can’t come back later and … Continue reading Condonation.
From Famine to Feast 