|Suffering from "Forgot to bring my razor to Portland scruff" syndrome.|
My turn around will be brief though because tomorrow morning I am off to see O.G. in Denver. And this turn around is pretty unusual for an uberintrovert like me. I mean there is every possibility that with cleaning the cat boxes and house, unpacking, doing all the dirty clothes from Portland, and repacking, I will have zero opportunity to play Fallout 4 until my eyes bleed. A true travesty of all that is good and right in the world.
On the plus side, I scheduled my voyage so that I am taking a thirty six hour train ride specifically so that I have time without an internet connection to write. I'm even going to be extra extra extra good with good sauce, a side of disciplined, and a tall frothing glass of inner strength and NOT bring my gaming laptop with me, so that I don't just play Fallout 4 the whole train ride. Even though it's a brand new game and I just bought it and I want to play it so bad I might wet myself.
This means that I will not really be able to upload content tomorrow. (I'm going to try to make a quick vlog tonight to post right as I'm heading out the door, but life has a way of saying "Not so fast!" around here at night.) On Thursday we have an interesting guest post from a published author who is going to tell you some advice that I personally disagree with a little bit (but it's important to hear all sides). By Friday, we will be back in business, and hopefully with a few high quality gems I've whipped up while I was on the train.
I came home to sad news. A friend. Someone from my choir days in high school. She was a sophomore when I graduated. Her parents found her body.
I didn't know her as well as I could, but she was always a brightly blazing fireball shooting through the sky like a meteor towards the next big thing. Her enthusiasm was like a wildfire, and she could get an Eskimo excited about selling ice cubes on spec. I remember laughing after each over-the-phone tutoring session and thinking "Next time I've got to remember to charge her for that...." The sky seems a little bit darker without her fiery passion lighting it up in brilliant hues of red, a glowing trail in her wake. A little more empty too.
I'm at that age now. My friends don't seem to look like they're going to live forever anymore. Bodies are starting to give up. Long struggles with chronic illness (even those misnomered as "just" mental) are starting to be too much for those shouldering the burden to go on bearing. In some cases addictions are taking their toll. It's still rare and unexpected now, like the first few kernels of microwave popcorn. But it has begun.
I will be one of those old people who has forgotten how to be angry. I can tell. My heart will be too full of sadness and too covered with scar tissue. I didn't know her as well as I could, but I grieve, and my heart feels heavier than it did yesterday.
Pour one out for Jenn if you get the chance. And if you see a red comet ripping through the sky, that's just her hurtling towards the next big thing.