Balance, they say, is a myth told by clocks with two hands. I’m bad at math but good at metaphors: today’s equation = (1 sunrise stolen by Zoom grids)
(3 stolen kisses from my daughter’s hair)
(7 urgent emails left to rot in drafts) = a sum that almost tastes like living…
The joy of parenthood, I realized, wasn’t a singular event but a continuous journey woven with threads of laughter, frustration, tenderness, and unwavering commitment. And while I wouldn’t trade my own path, that single day offered a profound appreciation for those who navigate this beautiful, challenging, and utterly irreplaceable journey every single day…
Let us speak of love. Not the mortal, fleeting kind—no, the *real* romance: the torrid affairs we have with logos that wink at us from billboards, the siren songs of jingles that nestle into our brains like earworms with a PhD in manipulation. These are the paramours that stalk us through grocery aisles, seduce us in airports, and whisper sweet nothings like *“Buy One, Get One Free”* in the dead of night. Gather ‘round, fellow consumers, as I serenade the brands that have branded my soul—not with a hot iron, but with a loyalty program and a vaguely dystopian algorithm…
So, on this Saturday, and every day thereafter, may we rise not to repeat, but to create. May we find solace in the quiet embrace of solitude, strength in the tapestry of our own stories, and the unwavering hope that in the end, all the broken shards of our past will become the mosaic of a beautiful, unique, and irrevocably human present.
This is my story, woven in the threads of time, and I invite you to weave yours, one thread at a time, into the grand tapestry of existence.
In the land of opportunity,
Where dreams are made and broken.
Where hard work is promised to pay off,
But the truth is often unspoken.
In this land, the young and naive,
Arrive with hearts full of hope.
They dream of success and fortune,
But their dreams are soon stripped to the bone.
I woke up this morning with a start,
My heart was racing, my head was full of dread.
I had a meeting in an hour,
But I couldn’t remember where it was.
I tried to think back, but my mind was blank.
I had been so busy lately,
It was all starting to blur together.
I got out of bed and went to the bathroom,
Splashed some water on my face,
And tried to clear my head…
The day begins with a backstory. It’s the culmination of all the thoughts and feelings that have been brewing in my mind during the night. As I wake up, I start to piece together the plot of my day. What do I need to get done? What do I want to accomplish? What are my priorities?
DMT 