Watch and Learn
It’s a little weird that I, of all people, feel nervous being watched. Being watched is literally my job.
It’s a little weird that I, of all people, feel nervous being watched. Being watched is literally my job.
Alas, I know my life is difficult, even torturous.
I get why a customer might need to believe I am serious and resolute in my work and not somebody who has the Wikipedia page for Pokémon open on another browser.
I’ll forgive you for ignoring all of this if you just answer your emails.
This workshop is tuition-free, assignment-free, and pretty stress-free, but soon I’ll be back at my own school, and the cloud of duties will descend.
They must have died eventually, the ones that we didn’t scoop out.
Cognitive functions deteriorate with exhaustion; I once hallucinated midnight bicyclists and figures running through the woods after summiting Mt. Rainier.
I’m trying to lean into the messiness, letting myself engage grief in the middle ground.
Who would catch me if I broke rank and fell into new, unknown ideas? Who would listen if I loosened my mouth and spoke?
Cookies are a way of saying I can’t fix all of the hurt, or make the bad days go away.