the sunday post

I can’t remember the last time I drank wine. I bought a bottle last Friday but left it here at the house, which I was not happy about because I really needed it yesterday afternoon. The weekend at my parents’ house was pretty great otherwise.

I opened the wine when I got home, and it didn’t take much for it to take hold of me. So I wrote, of course. Drunk posts can either go really well or really not well, and that one was insanely long. I’m sober now with the good sense to revert the post to draft status, which I did.

You are welcome.

Good gracious.

I gave a history lesson on Viking conquests. Blame my father. Conversations with him are rarely trivial. He either teaches me something or poses a question for discussion. I used to hate it, but I’ve grown to appreciate his making me think.

I’ll spare you William’s conquest, but I’m really am glad I know the history of Normandy and its influence on England. No joke. I’ll never use the information, but knowing things makes me feel good.

Like those two years of graduate school. I used that information out in the world for about a year, and I’m still paying off the loan. But the time spent was worth every last cent. It was the experience that I paid for and the personal growth it afforded. I’d go back for my Ph.D., but I’ve committed myself to a different route.

I HIGHLY recommend diving into graduate school if you have the opportunity to do so. I’d go back in to school for physics in a heartbeat if I could. Feed your passion, or you might lose it….hmm….no, no you won’t. You won’t ever. But feed it anyway. It’s hungry. And what the hell, let the world reap the results if you are so inclined. (Be inclined.)

My head is sort of spiny. Spinny? no spines. I have no spines on my head. Though my head is connected to one.

I better stop while I still make sense. Clearly the wine is still at work.

Outside of that, I feel genuinely better. A wave of relief overcame me right before I fell asleep last night.

I’m sending warm hugs into the night air and letting the wind carry them to where they’re needed.

goodnight to you, oh dear world


Author: uncaged

When Picasso painted a blue Seated Woman in a Chair, he was unconsciously thinking of me.

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