Life is the original Kobayashi Maru. I have enough evidence to prove that no-win situations exist.
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.
How many of these cardio classes do I have to endure before my depression is cured?
“Oh, did you have a cheat meal?”
Nope, I was eating my feelings. Loyalty had nothing to do with it.
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.
But this is a job issue and that makes it a money issue, which is precisely the type of thing I could take to the God of the prosperity gospel.
When will the amnesia set it? When will the many tears I shed be replaced by feelings of nostalgia?