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.
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?
What are we even saving daylight for?
Just because I believe in something doesn’t mean I believe that it’s good.
I don’t know how to cook for one. I make too much of everything and end up with leftovers that I won’t eat.