Category: Life

We endured a pandemic. Life shut down. Live music stopped. No more going to the movies. It was take-out only at food stops. I avoided aisles at the grocery stores when it was filled with too many people.

Through all that, and a million Americans dead, it’s like we just couldn’t wait to get back to being miserable.

I’ve talked to a handful of people recently, and no one’s fucking happy. Short fuses, bad tempers, and people being shitty everywhere.

Oh, we can get back to “normal” a bit? Great. Time to be miserable.

Finally re-found this quote from Joe Holder:

“sometimes, all the time, never”

don’t think of exercise as an “all the time” activity—key is just to not let “sometimes” become “never”

don’t think of “junk food” as a “never” occasion— key is to just to not let “sometimes” become “all the time”

it’s all in the dose

Joe Holder via Twitter

For a minute I thought I’d do one of those “write something everyday in December” things, but then last night I was exhausted and was in bed by 8pm on a Friday night, so that’s out the window. But whatever!

We are not robots.

I asked a friend recently, “how are you being a good manager to yourself?” And for me, that’s been giving myself lots of freedom and flexability in my freelance work. I don’t mean missing deadlines, but more like, if I feel like I need to take a walk, or a bike ride, or leave something for tomorrow, I do it now. Fuck it.

Finishing work is actually never finished. Somehow there’s always more tomorrow, and well, I’m not a machine. I need rest, I need hobbies, I need to not work.

So missing a day in the month of December, 2022 is not the end of the world.

Love this from James Clear’s 3-2-1 newsletter:

“Children are joyful and treat each day as a miracle—in part because they are continually surprised.

Each day, they hear a new word or listen to a new song or learn about a new animal. It’s their first time visiting that restaurant or jumping in that pool or riding that rollercoaster. The world is continually unfolding before them.

How can you introduce more surprise into your life as an adult? How can you renew your sense of childlike wonder?”

James Clear

How, at 46, do I introduce wonder and surprise? That’s a tough one.

Going biking in new places brings about some surprise and wonder, as the weather may change, or I might show up right when a steam train is leaving the station, and I can try to “race it.” Those small, spontaneous moments, I guess.

Running is always a surprise, too, because I sort of never know how the body will feel. Most days it can be hard to get out the door (especially with the heat wave we have here on the east coast), but then 1.8 miles into the run everything feels great, or I see a breathtaking sunset, or I come across a dog who loves racing me from the other side of the fence.

In part I think it’s just getting out and doing something, throwing myself into the world and seeing what happens. That’s looked different in the past few years due to COVID, which has meant a lot of missed opportunities to meet new people, so lately it’s been about the experiences, and the scenery.

From @joysullivanpoet via Instagram.

I always thought of these people as having the “audacity to dream,” and how I loved being around these folks, something I’ve been lacking in recent years given the pandemic and all.

The dreams have withered though. Maybe it’s because I’m 46, over a decade since I got rid of all my stuff and started riding across the US with my laptop, and crashed on the couches of my friends.

Money is hard to make, free time is scant. The time for dreaming is hard to come by, so maybe the dreams get smaller. I’ve heard more than once in the past few years, “wow, I wish I could just have health care,” or something similar. Like, that’s a dream for some people in America, which is fucking gross.

I know what the President said 13 seconds after he posted it, along with the 100 replies to that the statement, and the 14 articles that will be written about soon after. I know that the President read something.

But I don’t know if my neighbor had a good holiday.

I know so many random bits of NBA trade gossip, but can’t tell you the hours of the three places to get coffee here.

I know what my friends had for lunch, several time zones away, but I never checked to see if there’s a soup kitchen or community pantry in my town.

I feel like I know so much about such little things, and the big things right in front of me are invisible.