What do I think I know? I know that I don’t know enough. That’s one thing I know. I also know I’m a little bit smart. I’m glad I know this because otherwise, I’d be having a complex. “Moron” is one of the nicer epithets that has been thrown in my direction on social media. Luckily, that one doesn’t take. They should’ve called me fat. … Continue reading What do you think you know?
I have serious love for this title, which is why it pains me to confess that the words aren’t mine. They were coined by a longtime friend and came up during a discussion about chronic illnesses, pain, and living life. Credit where credit is due. The first two problems make living life more challenging. I’m also cursed with perspective and a built-in hair shirt. I … Continue reading I found my happy place. It was closed.
The bags under my eyes officially qualify as suitcases, in case you haven’t had enough overused clichés today. Unfortunately, while trite, the phrase is accurate. The bags are suitcase-y indeed. I suspect it’s because of all the sleep I’m not getting. I’d take the magic pills, but they’re a transitory fix. The problem is pain, and it doesn’t seem interested in relocating. When I was … Continue reading The bags under my eyes.
What’s up with fear? I get the survival component: we wouldn’t be a successful species if we all wanted to play with gorillas, but does it have to be so persistent during non-dire situations? I don’t like racing hearts and flop sweats. [i] I’m afraid frequently. Partly because I suffer from anxiety and partly because I’m a Gemini. Half of me is a big, fat … Continue reading Fear facts.
From Famine to Feast 