In my recurring nightmare, I am actually moving. I am running as fast as I can. But, despite my best efforts, everyone is passing me.
Good God, signing up for a 5k might have been a huge mistake. It feels like the equivalent of purposely going onstage and attempting to perform a piece that quit rehearsing weeks ago or jumping out a window because I once had a dream that I could fall far better than I could fly.
I once asked my dad why he backed into parking spots when we went to church. He kept his eyes forward as we walked from the back of the parking lot to the church’s front door. “Quicker exit,” he said, and I think about this as I pull into the parking lot at work and watch the side mirrors as I back myself into a corner spot.
You eat the macaroni and cheese you think you deserve. This is not a judgment against people who choose boxed over baked, but I do believe that they could learn to love themselves a little more.
No one understands my students’ cries of unfairness more than I do. At my current rate of income-based repayment, I will be able to pay off the loans from my bachelors and masters degrees shortly before my 92nd birthday.
“Start very small. Make your goal something that you can succeed at, like doing the dishes every other day.”
I am suffering from the type of writer’s block that comes from having too many political conversations with Conservative Christians. It’s not that I have nothing to say, but rather that I don’t feel like talking to y’all anymore.
My smiles have been fake all day and now my cheeks, in addition to my soul, hurt.