Photo via Erik Leung
I don’t believe…
… in judging people with lifestyles unlike my own. Who you judge says more about you than the person you judge.
…in following what any one book says to do in raising Carter.
…that anyone cares if you are miserable, so you might as well be happy.
…that the scariest part of dying is the actual death.
…that forever is necessarily a long time.
…that there is ever too much Nutella.
…that children should have a TV in their room. Or a cell phone in their pocket. Or an iPod to fall asleep to.
…that we grow up in a fluid movement. I think we keep pretending until the lines start to blur.
…that newer is necessarily better.
…that this sickness I have will go away quickly enough.
I am sitting at home on the couch. I can’t move. Or, as Alex Stockwell would say, “I’m immobile.” I’m down and out something fierce, with a nasty sore throat and a gruesome cough. This has been a rough week for everyone, most of all my incredible friend Erin, who was in an accident yesterday and broke both bones in her right forearm. <– don’t click that if you’re queasy. I’m so scared for her, which makes no sense, as I know that she is just fine. It’s just a jarring wakeup call when you are told that someone dear to you has been in such a scrape. Please keep her in your thoughts as she recovers from a surgery to put a plate and metal rods in her arm.
Annnd now I am watching an episode of Hoarding:Buried Alive which features a woman with a banana fetish. It’s time to go (back) to bed.
"Children don't grow up. Our bodies get bigger, but our hearts get torn up."
-The Arcade Fire