The Joy of Not Giving a Shit

Yes, I torture myself. Is it good enough? Is it even good? I don’t want to empower that voice, but it’s inevitable. What’s also inevitable is the joy I feel – if not while I’m writing, then afterward. It’s an important part of my life, my own little world where I can do whatever I want. It’s my respite, it’s my vacation and vocation. It feels like all I need. It’s also communication; I want people to read it. So I’m conversing, but really only with myself; that’s when things get confusing.

Driving to work this morning I cried listening to Sunday Morning by the Velvet Underground, a favorite since high school. On the eve of my fortieth birthday I felt the weight of it: my youth, people who aren’t here anymore, places and times I’ll never see…layer upon layer of nostalgia. Watch out, the world’s behind you. Life is frightening and I’m so lucky to have it.

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