Scraps. I has them.

In four years, I’ll be a black belt.

That’s what they tell me anyway. I don’t know how much I actually believe them when they tell me that. Apparently, if I stick it out, it’s the truth.

I’ve taken up kickboxing. I’ve never really done the whole workout thing. I’ve gone to the gym, and tried running, biking, whatever. I haven’t done the whole team thing since high school. I went off to school and had some kids and got married and settled down and settled down and settled down. Now I’m finally getting fired up.

I sit at a desk for my job. Sure, I could stand at my desk all day. Sure I take regular breaks and walk around and stretch and all the stuff you’re supposed to do. It’s still a desk job.

At this moment in time, I have three children. Little people that I’ve helped to create, raise, and teach the ways of the world. They are full of life and energy and they wake up far too early and I love them with most fibers of my being. I will not fall behind and slow down and succumb to age. Not before the normal time for that sort of thing, anyway.

These first two months have been a journey. I’ve wanted to quit, mostly in the beginning. I’ve felt highs that I forgot I could feel. The lows haven’t been altogether ignorable. I’m still going. I miss a day here. I pick things back up there. Life goes on, and I will keep on going.

I am a kickboxer. In four years, I’ll be a black belt.

and then

Thumbing through dog-eared tweets this eve, the distinct nostalgia for a time gone by tugged the snarly tendrils of my cardiovasculars. Many days have elapsed into months and years since I have felt the joy of concise self-awareness. At times, a certain nostalgia takes hold of me and I fucking miss The Way Things Used To Be™ with a good part of my being.

Whatever, I’m going to start writing again.

some things

We’re all here on this planet and in one another’s lives, even if just in some small, easily overlooked way. Everything matters. Our perspective could never be broad enough to understand how deep down that truth reaches. We tell stories in order to grasp at it, but we’re really grabbing at the wisps of a forgotten dream.

In the same way that everything matters, we should love everyone. It’s the same lesson we’re taught again and in so many ways. It’s fundamental to our wellness. It’s absolutely positively important to love. Forget about romance or compassion. Throw away propped up ideals, and just Be Nice To Everyone.

We ask “What is the meaning of life?”, as if life is the only thing that has any meaningful reason.

Everyone falls, without exception. We fall to ourselves. When we forget how to love, we forget why we’re here.

Today I ate too many different things.

Yeah.

That’s about it.