Reality hits

This evening's realities, harsh & otherwise:

1 - I have not (quite) finished the poems I want to send out. But I am working on them, mid-breakthrough on one now. Even as I write this, I'm in a space, working on something honest. So I did not meet my own challenge/dare/whathaveyou. But this is also me giving myself a break. I'd rather send out better poems a couple of days late than bad poems "on time."

Sunday morning, as I was putting on my tennis shoes for a run, I looked up at the clock and said, "Drat. I'm late."

R. said, "How can you be late? You're just going for a run."

I said, "Well, I wanted to be back at 8:45 but I also wanted to run six miles, and I can't run that far and still get back by 8:45."

"So just run three miles," she said.


2 - See this, which Suzanne led me to from her blog. It's astonishing how many of people's secrets are negative and filled with shame. What happens to happy secrets? Are they not secrets to begin with? Or are they shared in person, more easily?


3 - We're all going to die. I hate that. Even though in my clearer moments, I know that it's really and honestly okay (in the big scheme of things), still it irks me sometimes.