I find it strange that never once in their daily conversations does this all-knowing God suggest basic empathy as a possible course of action.
Life is the original Kobayashi Maru. I have enough evidence to prove that no-win situations exist.
Even though women are supposed to be the superior multitaskers, I can’t figure out how to let her go, catch her, and take a picture all at the same time. Being a widow is harder, but sometimes, being an only parent is harder.
The booster has been running through my veins for about ten hours. I cannot mentally move things, change things, or create things. I have to still do work. What a sham.
We have no business going into space if we haven’t figured out a cure for depression. Honestly, I would think that, once the cool factor wore off, existing in a boundless expanse of nothingness would only magnify feelings of insignificance, loneliness, and emptiness.
Day 2 – Kujichagulia – On this day we pledge to define ourselves, name ourselves, create for ourselves and speak for ourselves.
There are no Kwanzaa presents. Yet, in the spirit of defining myself, I buy a bottle of grapefruit tequila, a new sweatshirt, a recliner for my bedroom, a new book. I am determined to cultivate a tiny corner of comfort for myself.
It then occurs to me that this is what CS Lewis meant when he talked about outgrowing fairy tales. Someday, Lucy, you’ll hear that a land is cursed with winter climate and your first thought won’t be “How awful that must be!” but rather, “How cold does it get?”
I love that the first people the Statue of liberty invites are the tired. Is it only tired? Can the exhausted and burnt out come too?
I wouldn’t need to increase the dosage if the rest of the world would just lower their emotional expectations for the next year.
What are we even saving daylight for?