218 // Catching Up

Today is a resting day. I’m home taking care of myself and readying for a quick return to work again tomorrow. I’m somewhat better, or at least somewhat more resigned to my condition. It’s the difference between coping and healing. Both are important, but today is about the former rather than the latter. I’m giving up control, expecting nothing, and doing only what I have to, what I can.

And today, I can do some catching up. I’m catching up on sleep, podcast episodes, house cleaning, scheduling, and the courses I’m taking. It feels good to be back up to date. To know here and now where I stand and know that moving forward I can be in lockstep with my calendar but, if I’m honest, all this catching up is just a kind of procrastination.

I’m supposed to be writing. I have a piece I want to write, but I’m worried it’s too similar to the very popular piece written by the much more talented writer that inspired it. I’m trying to remember that there is no rule that you cannot write about the same thing as another person. I’m trying to remember that this writing is for me and that even if the themes may be the same, my story is still my own to share.

I haven’t mediated yet either, the second of the most basic expectations I have of myself. The good news is the day is far from over and I still have time after this writing to get up and do the things I know will really make me feel good. The trick is not to get distracted. The trick is never to forget the tick, tick, ticking of time passing and to do now what you really mean to do so that you never forget or feel regret.

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It was a long day. The kind of day you have to rush home and wash out of your hair, exfoliate off of your body, and drink away with a strong hard cider. Today was technically my first day back at work for the new school year. No, actually it was everyone else’s first day back and simply my first day seeing them all again since last May. Apparently, it’s going to take me some time to get used to them all again.


I’ve never read any of Toni Morrison’s books, a fact I am deeply ashamed of, but I certainly knew who she was. She was a black woman and an author and though I haven’t had the joy of her books in my hands. I look up to her. I want to be like her, and I am influenced by her.

Her books have been sitting on my TBR list forever and though it’s too late to love her while she was alive her words are still waiting for me and will be there whenever I am ready. I’m grateful for that, and for her lighting the way for all black women and for writers like me.

Rest on peace Toni Morrison and thank you. I’ll see you on the page soon.