These are feelings about education and moving and there’s nothing in here about weed, but there are mentions of booze

  • * But if you want to have a talk about organized religion v. cults, hit me up. I love those kinds of conversations. **
This is a picture taken by my former professor on my last day of chemotherapy. Summer 2011.
  1. Thank god it’s not me.
  2. That poor bird/woman/child is going to die and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.
  3. I would be so afraid/angry/depressed in his/her/that bird’s position.
  1. Someday, it will be you. Whether it’s cancer or something cardio or just old age. It WILL be you. So if you have an issue with your own mortality or with the weirdness of living in a body WORK THAT SHIT OUT, just don’t work it out on staring at people — however pitifully — with clear health issues.
  2. You are going to die. I might die BEFORE you, but you will still die. So again, see above — work out your existential shit with a therapist or your friends, like I do. Not on some stranger.
  3. I do get scared and angry and depressed sometimes, but it’s not my constant state. And even if I’m scared, angry, and depressed I still, sometimes have to go to Walgreens and I have to teach my classes and write my nonsense and I refuse to live in a constant state of anger/depression/fear because it’s miserable and I won’t be here forever (neither will you) so shouldn’t I just enjoy this spin?

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