If one builds a pillow fort to crawl into, what is one being protected from?
After all, fortresses are built to defend against outside forces and keep things safe inside, right? Leaving aside the structural effectiveness of pillows vs. stone vs. steel, if you’re building a pillow fort and putting something valuable in it (i.e., you, and maybe a special friend who knows the secret password and doesn’t have cooties), what are you defending them from?
When you’re a kid it’s probably your parents, your siblings, and of course, the aforementioned cooties. But what about when you’re an adult and you need a pillow fort? What are you trying to defend yourself from?
Being an adult?
Or, to sum it all up, reality?
Someplace warm and soft with snacks and a good book and no news, no adulting, no job, no bills, no reality – that does sound pretty good.
Remember to fly – remember what you’re passionate about – remember to stay with the light.
Without passion we’re just random bits of protoplasm metabolizing oxygen on an infinitesimally small dust mote in an infinite and infinitely uncaring universe.
With passion, we are alive, we are observers and participants, we are a vital and irreplaceable component that allows the entire universe to be alive, to be aware.
If you’re tired enough and squint they start to look like trombones.
Are there seventy-six of them? Is Ronnie Howard running around with a lisp?
Many folks despair over being forced to go back to work on Monday morning after a weekend of fun and relaxation. Or, at the very least, a weekend of not being at work.
Once again I’m here to report on my findings:
Working a huge chunk of the weekend on a project due Monday morning and NOT having two days of fun and relaxation does NOT make facing Monday morning any more pleasant. It’s not the transition from the “not at work” state to the “at work” state that’s the jarring and unpleasant part, so trying to eliminate that transition by never not (i.e., “always”) being at work is less than satisfactory.
You have been
It’s a matter of perspective. I know that I’ve linked to another version of this comedy bit in the past and I often laugh my ass off at it. At the moment however…
I can think of a number of activities and events that are a better reason to be walking bow-legged.
Maybe I’ll just sit here, quietly, and listen to “Hamilton” again.
I figured that being on a restricted diet for a few days and then doing a day and a half of fasting wouldn’t be that big of a deal. There were other aspects of this particular ordeal that I remember as being worse. (And I’m sure they will be.)
But I must say that the “no big deal” facets of the experience are more of a big deal than I remember or expected. I think part of it has to do with the psychological aspects of being denied something, of being told “no” in a sense that seems unfair, which has never been something I dealt with particularly well.
What I notice is how the routine has been upset and my subconscious is constantly trying to get it back on track. No breakfast? It’s amazing how often I’ve found myself wandering into the kitchen and then not sure why I was going there until I have that, “Oh, yeah, THAT – sorry, no” moment.
I also didn’t realize how many snack type foods I kept at my desk. But then I keep catching myself reaching for them without thinking about it.
No Diet Coke? My caffeine substrate of choice is off-limits? Now THAT‘s a freaking crime!
But worse of all, although not strictly part of the fasting, is the prohibition for days against any aspirin or ibuprofen. Let me tell you, I would merrily kill right now for a couple of Extra Strength Excedrin washed down with a cold Diet Coke.
Instead I can have water.
I might be cranky today.