being known

The Sound of One Hand Clapping

My brain got a little wacky over the weekend. I’ve had far too much time alone lately, much of it sitting at a computer. And when that happens, I get crazy. I feel despair. I decide I have no friends. I am certain my life is not worth living. I’m positive that there is nothing I’m involved in that will come to fruition or prove valuable. I globalize (“Because I’m discouraged today, I’ll always feel this way.”) In short, I lose it.

All it takes to return me to some degree of normalcy is human contact —

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Eat my bubbles!

I passed a car downtown this morning. On the windows, in jaunty lettering, were “Eat my Bubbles” and  “Go Molly!” For just a brief moment, I really wanted to be Molly, whoever she is, confident in her probable role as swim team standout. I just think there’s a certain insouciance  in the “Eat my Bubbles” phrase, and I want that attitude.

Have you ever thought about how our cars are avatars, stand-ins for our identity? We pass untold numbers of people on the roads each day…

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