Make it obvious

Thanksgiving/ most of 2023 vibes:

I stopped caring about “my impact” for a long time.

Survival mode dims dreaming. Perhaps I became cynical. Sometimes I still look at dreamers as foolish, but it can also be a brave thing.

I used to not do much with my life. I worked, read, wrote things. Booped my cat on the nose. I don’t care about sports or most of pop culture. I don’t like to drink (and now can’t).

Dating, gross. Kids, pass. I can’t even get into going to concerts.

The news seems ricochets between shallow and tragic. A.I. Elon Musk. Israel. And lest we forget that Nick Cannon doesn’t like birth control, which is last year’s news, but still haunts me

And less we forget that the future doesn’t seem to like women much (but when has it ever?) What does this have to do with me? Stupid, stupid white noise. I used to eat it up as a young adult.

So what’s left?

My interests now are deep and obscure. We all sink into the same stuff as writers. Daily life isn’t enough. I’m trying to actively make sense of the mysteries we all face and distill the muddled up chaos…

I’m not “brilliant” but I’m also trying to solve those mysteries so I can survive them.

Love… and what happens when we get what we want. The highs. Those things the highs take away. The things we lose with the “lows - “Time, life, sometimes ourselves.

Not sure what the point of this post was.

I’m grateful for people who make me want to reach out instead of in.

I will try harder to put love first and make it matter the most. We are all stronger together. I’m just as guilty of getting lost in noise, even though it might be a slightly different noise.

And on we go.