How Are You?
How are you?
Everyone deals with a change to normalcy differently. There’s no right or wrong way to find your footing. Here are a few things that resonated deeply with me while offering a much-needed smile during these super abnormal times.
If you can handle a few well-placed F-bombs and Sh-bombs, I love how author Chuck Wendig explains what he is feeling and thinking during COVID-19 and #stayhome in his blog, “It’s Okay that You’re Not Okay.” Okay, I just read it for the fifth time. Even if you don’t like F-bombs or Sh-bombs, I hope you’ll still read it.
I keep seeing posts and emails telling me I should calm my mind and worries by meditating. I finally found a meditation recording that works for me, and some of you might like it too: F*ck That: An Honest Meditation.
Email me if you’d like to connect: firstname.lastname@example.org.
Until next time thanks for staying home, staying healthy, and for being you.
P.S. April 1st is the day that my novel, Tiger Drive begins. Here is the opening scene and reference:
Hello, my name is Harry.
Saturday morning, April 1, 1989
Harry opened his eyes and waited for his vision to clear. He was dressed and lying in bed—his bed. He recognized the quilt pattern on the damn twin mattress Janice had moved into their room six months before—and after seven kids and thirty years of marriage. The finality behind her action had made it one of the worst days of his life. They hadn’t slept together since.
So he’d made it home, but how and when? He rolled onto his back and stared at the bedroom ceiling.
What did he do last night? Or was it more than one night? He was no stranger to drinking binges and running blackouts that could last up to a week at a time. They had become part of his genetic makeup and bad habits over the past several years, increasing at a disastrous rate. He looked at his watch: April 1. So one night was lost forever, and he was waking up on April Fools’ Day.
He was a fool.
What had he done between the blackout and bed? Part of him wanted to know, and part of him didn’t. Nothing good ever came out of being so drunk he couldn’t remember a damn thing.