Category Archives: Humor

Customer Service, Finances, Humor, Opinion, Personal, Social Rules, Walmart

It’s Safer To Get Killed In Traffic (Subtitle: Don’t Use Off-Brand ATMs, Even At The World’s Largest Retailer)

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I get zinged for my love and use of index cards. They are both practical and whimsical. I can take notes, make card houses, and draw. I can also use them to quickly leave notes everywhere, sometimes to the disgruntlement of almost the entire planet.

Due to momentary insanity, I opted to use the ATM at Walmart. The fee was low – and so was enthusiasm for driving across traffic to my bank. I knew better but did it anyway. Some people define that as wisdom.

I watched as the machine scrolled through the prompts, indicated it was dispensing money, and then the red light near the bill dispenser flashed. Uh-oh. I took out my phone to record, despite the Fort-Knox number of cameras in the register area. If you didn’t know this secret, Walmart and most stores experience sudden camera failure when YOU need them. A UFO could fly across your head and they’d just shrug. The machine gave me a card, a receipt, followed by zero money. The receipt indicated I’d been had. I meant charged.

It was at that point I realized I had not, in fact, recorded anything. Murphy’s law was somewhere behind me, watching with an evil grin.

I flagged one of the six managerial types standing in the dead limbo zone between the self-checkout kiosks and freedom. You’ve seen them. They evidently don’t do checkout anymore – they instead employ people to leer at us while we do it for them and then act invisible when our kiosk needs attention. He ambled over. “Oh, we don’t own that machine.” (Which turns out isn’t true. They do. They rent the space to the company on the face of the ATM.) He then said the strangest thing: “Yes, it’s been broken for at least a couple of days.” I looked at him with a mixture of incredulity and confused mirth. “Uh, you think an ‘Out of Order’ sign might be needed here? If that’s the case, you are needlessly stressing your customers,” I said, trying to be patient and calm.

We traded comments, me for fascinating information to use later, and he, because he read the wrong side of the customer service training cards when he was hired.

I called the number on the ATM. It went as well as you’d think. Yes, they knew it was broken and likely out of cash, the woman allegedly doing customer service told me. Yes, multiple people had angrily called. “Can you take my information? I’ve had this happen before and I got screwed worse than ________.” You’ll have to insert a colorful analogy there. It was very funny but risque. I could tell immediately that the person on the phone was as interested in helping me as someone who wants to push someone else down the stairs so they’ll get to the bottom faster.
No, she wouldn’t take my information. In her case, she learned her company’s motto: “We’re not satisfied until you’re not satisfied.” I asked about the camera in the front of the ATM, having been through this scenario previously. “Oh, there isn’t one,” she said. She told me that Walmart or corporate owns the machine and her company rents the space. “Who owns the accountability?” I asked. Insert “blah, blah, blah” here. She told me that no one was coming to service or fill the machine – nor to put an “Out of Order” placard on it. Walmart employees wouldn’t do it either, because “it was their job or their machine.”

Before hanging up, I informed the woman on the phone that I was trying to take out $300 for both groceries and meth. That’s how I confirmed she was the most humorless person in the world. I told her I loved her and that I wanted her to have a good weekend. Plot twist: she hung up.

I will admit that because I carry permanent markers, I ALMOST wrote directly on the face of the ATM monitor. I had to really control myself. Instead, I wrote on several index cards and put them everywhere. There ended up being one inside the money dispenser that you can’t see in the picture. You’d be surprised at how often I use my stash of index cards to let everyone else know that something is broken, their tire is low, or that their face reminds me why I don’t ever want to be in a Turkish prison.

As I was leaving, two people were at the Money Center complaining that the ATM was broken.

At least a kind soul took the time to let everyone know the ATM was potentially robbing customers.

Wait! I’m that person! 🙂

But did I die?

No.

So help me, if my money isn’t put back into the account, I am going to be really irritable. I’m not going to do as I did years ago and rant and fight either the ATM company or Walmart. That just wastes my life. No, I’m going to squirt super glue into the card slot every time I go in there. Extreme? Yes. But you only say that it’s extreme because you’ve never had a bank or ATM ‘take’ $400 of your money (twice) and then say it was you who screwed up. By the way, thanks Arvest for the valuable lesson a few years ago. They weren’t wrong: I had screwed up by staying with them after the first mistake.

It’s Friday and if I don’t get my meth, I don’t know how I’m going to watch Masterpiece Theatre.

PS I don’t use meth. That’s just crazy talk. Heroin is cheaper.

Love, X

Eats, Food, Humor, Opinion, Personal, Social Rules, Uncategorized

Cigars and Sashimi

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I got accused outright of having a sheltered life earlier in the week.

The accuser wasn’t wrong. I thought quite a bit about it, and to sit and steep myself in the allegation. I indicted myself in agreement with the conclusion.

To be clear, I have witnessed some sh!t in my time. All of us have in varying amounts. Most of our lives probably overlapped a great deal. Thankfully, not everyone had a wild ride of it and each of us disparately experienced what I would label as “fringe” events.

But there’s a lot I don’t know. Obviously. My spell checker reminds me every day, as do my co-workers, neighbors, ex-wife, and even the mailman drops by every couple of days to shake his head in bewilderment at me.

Even at 54, I’m still finding out that there are worlds within worlds all around me. Words, foods, drinks, ideas, a cauldron of ceaseless wonder.

When you don’t eat sushi, for example, the barrage of specific vocabulary one must learn to order it for someone else becomes overwhelming, like signing up for Beginner’s Spanish only to later realize that it was in fact “Belgian Spanish.” I have no problem insisting that I’m ignorant and therefore need guidance. Otherwise, people will be eating a can of tuna and crackers. I won’t even get started on how they price the stuff. The sushi, not the canned tuna.

Food and flavor are 100% opinion.

NO, I don’t care what the various kinds of sushi, sashimi and blah, blah, blah are actually supposed to be called. That you like it is all that matters. I don’t have to like it. I like it that YOU like it. That’s pretty much how all of us should respond to friends and family when they love the stuff we wouldn’t eat if the human race depended on it. I know for a fact that some of the stuff I eat would make Bill puke until next Tuesday. Sorry, Bill. It’s true. Besides, you’re definitely not busy next Tuesday anyway. Yes, I read your calendar, the one by the fridge.

But the prices? I know for a fact that in a dark basement, probably in New Jersey, there’s a really big man who spins a wheel and randomly determines the definitions for both ‘quality’ and ‘price’ of sushi. The worse it looks, the more it costs. (Note: it’s a shame that isn’t actually true for a lot of things, right?)

For those who aren’t around smokers, there are twenty-two million kinds of tobacco and specialty products available now. I remember in the early 70s when you could easily memorize the main twenty or so tobacco products. Now the racks look like Heidi Klum’s makeup room. There are so many adjectives you need to know to ask for the right thing that I feel like I need a thesaurus when I’m around it. Things that look cheap are obnoxiously expensive. Things that look expensive… well, they are expensive too.

The point of this is to forcefully point out that I am very ignorant about more things than you’d realize. I am very knowledgeable about a lot of things, too. But it is a lot of work hiding my ignorance – not that I make much of an effort. I’d need a big box for that.

Because I’m rejuvenated, I’m going to share another vow with you, exactly like the one that allowed me to lose all this weight…

I am going to say, “I don’t know” a lot more often.

I am going to say, “You probably need to show me this again, for the fifth time, unless you’d like a disaster.”

And if you need me to go buy good seafood, lord help you until my ignorance abates.

I’ve always been quite ignorant. You just might not have realized how much. I’m here to help you with that misunderstanding.

Meanwhile, be yourself. Smile, laugh, and growl sometimes if that is what is needed. Eat the foods you love even if your mom vomits, and let everyone eat the foods they love. Take that same acceptance and throw it into all the other areas of life where we encroach needlessly on people’s ability to live freely.

P.S. I have not been drinking. But I am going to have a bit of vodka and homemade sweet and sour.

And those index cards on the floor leading the rocking chair were part of an elaborate ruse that I couldn’t execute today. I have optimism for tomorrow. You’ll note the rocking chair is in front of an open door, leading to a balcony and a whole new world.

Love, X
Amen

Exercise, Humor, Personal, Psychology, Social Rules

Look Up, And To The Left

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I have a lot of fun with chalk, odd messages, and tomfoolery.

There are times when I learn unexpected things from doing such frivolity.

This morning, early, I went outside and wrote “Look up, and to the left” in chalk on the dock concrete. In fact, there wasn’t anything noteworthy, neither ‘up’ nor ‘to the left.’ Having said that, there easily might have been. I sometimes go to strange lengths to get an inside joke off the ground. I’ve been known to climb walls, trees, parking garages, and just about anything to pull off something interesting – even if no one ever sees it. I’d estimate a good 75% of them aren’t found for a long time, or at all. A good example? Years ago, I put a laminated note on the underside of a table at Las Margaritas, with my email address on it, indicating I’d pay whoever found it and contacted me $50. I pulled it off myself almost seven years later – though the table had been moved to another spot.

I observed several people approach the chalk, read the message, and then look up. Several of them looked up and to the right. (We all have directionally challenged people in our lives.) A few lingered, their eyes searching the upper part of the dock canopy. A few others read the message and kept walking without looking up. It was entertaining, and I figured many of them hadn’t ever looked up above them in that spot.

It’s those who didn’t look up that give me pause.

Were they in a hurry? Not curious? If I think about those people too long, I draw unfair conclusions. Who wouldn’t want a surprise, even a potentially stupid one, early in the workday? Something new, something interesting.

The other observation, one long known to me, is that most people will read almost anything written in chalk if they come across it. You can use that generalization in marketing, psychology, and tomfoolery.

Anyway, I hope you are the “look up, and to the left” kind of person instead of the “not interested” type.

You never know what might be lurking on the fringes.

A great deal of the world is hidden in plain sight up.

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PS I had picked today as a random day to break my single-day pushup record. Once I started, I regretted the decision. After a couple of hours, I decided to double down and beat my record by noon. I crossed the record with time to spare. Each time I surpass my last mark, I seriously wonder if there is an upper limit and if most of my problems and obstacles are about as accurate as the limit I imagine – until I beat it.

Now, I wonder if the fumes from today’s painting are making me see the giraffe outside. This is a weird apartment simplex, after all.

Humor, Personal, Uncategorized

On Target… AT Target

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I went to Target for a microwave. I picked a really bad day to wear my orange-red shirt. No exaggeration: I helped at least a dozen people find things. The highlight of this visit was when a Target employee asked me where they kept the little portable Ottomans for the college students.

PS I did not get an employee discount for the microwave.

DIY, Humor, Personal, Project, Social Rules

Today Only

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Someone is back at arts and crafts today. Y’all will be happy to know I haven’t significantly injured myself today. I did get my feelings hurt earlier but it wasn’t billable for Blue Cross, so it doesn’t count. Yesterday’s project with the window panel miraculously fit perfectly where it was supposed to. It was spa blue, similar to my car. As I put it in the window, I realized I’d probably always remember breaking a drillbit off on my shinbone while making that board.

These boards are for an old desk. I’d removed the raw wood top off it weeks ago, as it wouldn’t fit through a standard door. Because I’m dedicated to adding color (and more color) to things, I opted for a deep blue. It’s going to stand out like a streetwalker at Sunday lunch once the boards are on the desk. I’d like y’all to know that by the time I put these boards on the desk, I could have bought another desk for the same money. It’s not about the money. It’s about the likely brain damage I suffered as a child. (Insert confused laugh pause here.)

You can also see that I wisely have been painting and sawing (mostly) outside. It seemed prudent, given my approach to painting. It’s kind of like performance art. Residents and passersby alike tend to watch me while I’m out there. I’ve decided one of these days I’m going to go out there shirtless (and/or pantsless?) and just start spraying MYSELF. The lease does prohibit vehicle maintenance but shockingly omits spray painting oneself. Or self-immolation for that matter. I probably should do the landlord a favor and make a running list of things that occurred to me to do but aren’t forbidden.
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PS No matter where you are, take a moment and think of your friends and family and who might need a word of comfort. Reach out and listen. I was reminded yesterday that what we see is no gauge of how someone is really doing. And the smart creative ones are often undetectable in their protective bubbles. It breaks my heart to know that people are in so much pain. I write a lot of nonsense but the other half of me is zeroed into the holes I have – and those I see in others.

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“My mom cursed so much that the Navy paid her to train the recruits how to do it properly.” – X
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I often pause when I read the phrase “SERIOUS INJURY,” as if there is an alternate and opposite “COMEDIC INJURY.” (For the person suffering I mean – we all find humor in watching someone else get hit with an anvil.)
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I don’t know the attribution, but someone sent me this, saying it sounded like something I had written on my blog: “Discipline is cheap compared to how expensive regret can be.”
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I hope you’re happy, wherever you are. And if not, that you run outside right now and laugh at the sky.
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Look up, not down.

DIY, Humor, Personal, Project

I Got Drill Bit

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While doing a carpentry/paint project this afternoon, I took great caution to be careful. Or so I thought. I might as well have been binge drinking. Also, because of the limited number of outlets in the building, I used the lowest and closest one for the drill. To avoid splitting the wood, I drilled pilot holes in the main piece of board. When I unplugged the drill, it slipped out of my hand. The drill miraculously swung and hit my shinbone. More surprisingly, the narrow drillbit hit me in the same spot. It cut into me and then the bit snapped in half as it struck my leg. I looked down at the broken bit with a look of absolute stupidity and incredulity. Blood began to run from my leg like it would from a novice vampire’s mouth. Needless to say, it blossomed with a sharp, cutting pain, one similar to the one I felt when I helped several Latinos register to vote, only to find to my horror they voted conservative.

Additional safety notes: I live upstairs, giving me the opportunity to discover gravity unexpectedly each time I run up them. For the record, I love stairs. Next time, I’m going to paint indoors. I can’t imagine the fumes will cause any consequences – at least none that hurt worse than using my shinbone to snap a metal drillbit in half.

I’ll keep you posted.

My lease didn’t say anything about screaming like a little girl in the middle of the afternoon.
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Fayetteville, Humor, Personal

My UnBeautiful Laundrette

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After decades of not having to do laundry like a barbarian, I’m living at an apartment complex that has a laundry room. (I hesitate to call it a ‘complex,’ though; it’s more akin to a ‘simplex.’)

For fans of horror, you’d love the laundry room here. It’s not a place you’d want to be if the lights suddenly and unexpectedly began to flicker. Even the bugs have little bitty locks on their hiding places down there. I’m tempted to put a little speaker and transmitter in so that I can pipe maniacal laughter in there and then film people running out of there like they got trapped in a Republican budget meeting. If I were to drive up and see a film crew nearby, I would assume they’re scouting potential locations for the next installment of “A Nightmare On Elm Street,” with a particular interest in my apartment’s laundry room.

A few minutes ago, I went to move my clothes from the washer to the dryer. Exiting the room, I found myself toe-to-toe, so to speak, with a very large spider. Keep in mind that I’m not afraid of spiders. This one, however, was large and had a discernible attitude. I say that only because it seemed to have a knife, as well as several tattoos.

Also, I propose that we immediately start using the phrase “clothes yoga” instead of “folding clothes.”

I’d write a bit more, but I’m working on this story about a haunted laundry room.
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P.S. As people keep saying, the internet is where you find out who has a sense of humor. Likewise, I tend to employ a bit of hyperbole in what I write. It doesn’t negate the nuggets of truth I incorporate honestly in my stories and anecdotes. Nor does it mean that things are devoid of positivity or advantages. If you read things I write with an active asshole filter, some things will indubitably cross your wires. Also, this laundry room does not spark joy. If it ever gets remodeled, I do hope they use CSI as the new theme. (If only to save money on needless extra touches…)

Humor, Personal, Whimsical

Caution! Tomfoolery Afoot

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I know I had some doubters about my recent pranks with yellow caution tape. Yesterday, I opted to surprise strangers by X-ing their doors with it. Obviously, I didn’t get caught in the act or shot. If I had, at least I would have a good story. Or you would, repeating the headline about me getting shot for pranking strangers with tomfoolery. The upside is that you could wrap me with the remainder of the yellow caution tape roll.

Today, my new roll arrived from Amazon.

Life just shattered into a whole new series of possibilities.

Keep your eyes open, friends.

In an entirely new way, I have a lot more flexibility in both planning and executing pranks.

Let the lifetime of games begin.

Love, X

Humor, Personal, Whimsical

Today Only

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My favorite cousin posted this to social media today. I made it at least a couple of decades ago. I once made a LOT of this sort of thing. She has a hoard/treasure trove of such memories that’s she sorting through. It warmed my heart and is still making me think back.

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Despite giving away a large number of my “Get-out-of-jail-free cards,” I still have some left. It always surprises me when people who know me say they won’t need it. Duh! A disproportionate number of people who’ve been in my proximity have, in fact, needed one. Or two. I try to keep one under the floor mat at all times. Because if I’m going to get arrested, I’m definitely going to want to see the look on the policeman’s face when I hand it to him. Yes, I know that the cards on top are “Go to Jail” cards instead of “Get out of jail free” cards.

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Epictetus: “He is a wise man who does not grieve for the things which he has not, but rejoices for those which he has.”I have: Life. Choice. Opportunity. Whether I squander them is entirely my choice or fault. This has been true for my entire life, whether I believe it or not. At 54, I believe it. Love, X

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Knowledge you won’t find in a textbook: “Never complain about not having a shoulder to cry on if you’re around cannibals.”

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When I met the new Latino coworker, I couldn’t quite put my finger on why I didn’t like him, although something about his name, Adversario, gave me pause..

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I ain’t saying his hair is a mess… but, you know how people talk about tearing their hair out? He looks EXACTLY like he both failed and succeeded at doing just that.

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Some people worry about getting pulled over for speeding or drinking. My biggest concern is getting pulled over after someone discovers my latest artwork. I could post a picture of it, but I’m not going to. I like to think that someone out there will see something creative or beautiful and accuse me of having done it.No matter where it is.

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For those who need a good groan…Today’s tear-off flyer..

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The yellow conical sign in the middle of the hallway indicated “Wet Floor.” So I did.

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Compatibility Comparison: If during the night there is a strange and inexplicable noise from anywhere inside or outside the house…. if one person says “whatever,” and the other person always jumps out of bed as if WWIII is starting, it’s over. Both people think the other is crazy.

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Lovesakes, both new and old, juxtaposed, filled with light and nuance. The bird’s silhouette transposes a heart; whether it’s wounded or promise-filled depends on the beholder..

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I made a tear-off sheet of compliments, for anyone needing one… I’m uncertain which is my favorite:
“you smell like cheese”
“even IRS agents smile around you”
“you’re totally kidnappable”
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When I heard someone say, “She has an infectious laugh,” all I could think of was penicillin.

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At 54, I went to my first rave last Saturday. I walked in and punched the first person I saw. Hard. Middle-aged people should not be unleashed to new experiences absent a brief explanation that the words naming activities often have ZERO overlap with how they sound. Technically, though, the guy I sucker-punched did indeed ‘rave’ quite a bit afterward.

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Sometimes you can tell when somebody has had an unimaginably bad day. I left a 102% tip.Whatever preoccupation previously existed, it irrevocably vanished, leaving a huge smile behind.

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Caveat emptor! I spent $199 on a WWF Wrestling Starter Kit….

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Life accelerates away at a pace I can’t fathom. It boggles my mind that I’m at the same weight I was in 1985.I wish I could travel back and tell myself that the only thing that matters is that love seldom looks like we expect it to.Love, X

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Some clichès have critical hidden flaws.”When you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.” For all of y’all who have never dug a grave, that’s some pretty good cardio and intense exercise. If you can dig one, chances are you can dig forty seven.

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Humor, Mental Health, New Word, Opinion, Personal, Social Rules

Carpe Vinum Like a MoFo

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This morning, I drove across town, heading back. I felt like I had been on another planet for a day. In a way, I guess I had. Whenever you find yourself in a transition in life, try to take a moment to snapshot how you’re feeling. That feeling later morphs into comfort or consolation, no matter what the ‘after’ you find yourself in looks like. Life is going to sneak up on you anyway. And no matter what you’re planning, some of the things that you dread reveal hidden treasures – while other certainties end up fizzling or filling you with disappointment.

Yesterday, to my horror, I realized that pink fuzzy dice are prominently featured in the amazing book, “The Encyclopedia of Bad Taste.” It’s a good thing my set of pink fuzzy dice can’t read English, or their feelings would be hurt. To my delight, many things I like had their respective pages. “Everything is in bad taste to someone,” I like to remind myself.

I also became a fun memory for someone yesterday. He’d never had someone come in and say, “I want however much pico de gallo $20 will buy. I ain’t here to negotiate. Whatever it is, it is.” To my surprise, it was a LOT. And they threw in two bags of unrequested chips and salsa for free. After I paid for my order, a shorter Latino man came around the corner. The cashier pointed at me. (He didn’t know I was looking at him askance.) The Latino man looked in my direction. I waved like I was recently injured in the head. It was apparent to me that he had poked his head out to see ‘who’ ordered so damn much pico de gallo. He hastily retreated as I waved to him. I told the cashier in Spanish, “Does spying cost extra?” He laughed.

I’m also 100% sure that the two workers in the liquor store I entered thought I was trying to steal. Naturally, I made at least five needless and random tours around the smaller store. I thought about ducking below the top to REALLY draw their interest but don’t want to be banned from another liquor store.

On my walk yesterday, I discovered so many hidden gems, hideaways, and unexpected pleasures. On one dead-end side street, I discovered new and fabulous houses. The style was so odd that I realized I loved it. It’s not something I would ever choose, but now that I’ve seen it, I’m impressed. At the outlet of that street, I stopped and did pushups. The smell of the towering mimosa tree was unbelievable. I stood under it as the purposeful wind swirled the scent around me.

I also got reminded this weekend of how much turmoil some people have to endure. Some suffer so much invisibly that they don’t come out of it alive. Having done the one wise thing I’ve done in a year and going to counseling gives me an entirely different appreciation for those who don’t go when they need it. Right now, I am sure that someone will read this and be one of those people who secretly have a private feedback loop running in their head, the one telling them that there’s no point or that maybe they shouldn’t be here. Counseling isn’t what you fear it might be. But it can be the starting point. And so many people would benefit from getting a handle on their issues now. We don’t realize we’re at the beginning of an avalanche until we’re half-buried in snow. The best gift you can give someone is the confidence you need in yourself to be able to tell them that they would benefit from getting help. And if you’re the person needing help, give yourself the gift by confiding in someone that you need help.

I stopped this morning and bought two containers of chalk, one of which I almost entirely used, making a ‘small’ homage somewhere in Springdale. A couple of people witnessed me in action but said nothing to discourage me. It’s too bad I wasn’t wearing pants. (Just kidding about the no-pants portion. Although that much chalk residue is a real problem at times.) It’s not like chalk is graffiti; it’s as impermanent as we are, though we cavalierly pretend otherwise as we move around on the face of this planet.

Leaving the grocery store, I saw an older Latino man ahead. Both arms were weighed down with liquor store bags. I slowed, checked behind me, and tossed the myriad mess from my passenger seat into the back. Pulling up alongside the man, I rolled my window down. (Yes, my Spark has roll windows, which is something that I love the idea of.) “Hop in,” I told him in Spanish. He politely declined. I insisted and repeated my first line with a bit of salty language. He laughed and put the bags on the floorboard as he climbed inside. I saw that he had Harps bags tucked inside each liquor store bag. (For those few people who don’t drink, black liquor store bags are much stouter than their grocery store counterparts.) About halfway inside, he realized how small the car was. “Where are you headed? I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.” It turned out he was staying a couple of miles up the road. I asked him he needed anything: money, food, a ride somewhere else… “No, but thanks,” he said. He told me he was working twelve hours a day and sleeping in the garage of one of his friends. I didn’t pry, but he volunteered that the last year was the worst year of his life. Without thinking, I said, “You’re paying the price now to have your life back.” He looked at me, and I realized that I probably touched a nerve. “Verdad.” He got out, picked up his bags. He nodded his head as a farewell as he walked up to the house.

I opened the garage door and fired up the grill to make grilled chicken breasts and portabello mushrooms. Almost immediately, a dog wandered up. For a brief second, I thought he was going to attack. Unexpectedly, he ducked his head and began to wag it back and forth, his eyes downcast. I kneeled and petted him like he was my dog, oblivious to the initial idea he might bite. After I finished petting him for a couple of minutes, he laid on the garage floor, content. I found some old smoked turkey breast and put it on the ground. He ate it, his tongue working across his snout long after he finished it. When I finished grilling, Guajolotero, as I named him, still was sprawled out on the garage floor. I cut up one of the huge chicken breasts, along with a portabello mushroom, and fed them to him. He ate slowly but thoroughly. Even though he still licked his chops, I petted him again. Afterward, he casually plopped down to rest again. Apparently, he adopted me. If that’s the case, I will hope he doesn’t expect freshly grilled chicken and mushrooms on the daily.

Two hours later, he’s still in the garage, chilling.

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“It doesn’t matter who you’ve been with, it matters who you end up with.”
Anonymous wisdom
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“It doesn’t matter what you’ve done, if you’ve made amends as much as you can, it only matters who you end up to be. None of us are ever finished – and those who think they are, well, they are ‘finished’ in quite another way.” – X
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Something I learned in counseling.

Do you feel like you failed today, or worse, that you were a failure?

If you’re alive, you succeeded in doing something, even if it is the minimum necessary.

Tomorrow, survive again.

Stop expecting a dramatic crescendo of satisfaction from each of your days and eventually, gratitude for JUST the minimum will take root.
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I hope to get my hands on this door, to help in transition into something else.

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Love, X