I don’t like putting myself into the machine for the underworld to dissect and file away. I feel a false sense of security here, but the very thin veil of anonymity is enough for me expose the not-so-scandalous parts of my life. This disclaimer is for me, not you. I’m trying to make myself feel better about what I say in this space. And honestly, I’ve said some pretty brave things. Braver than this. Honestly, this is nothing compared to the rage inside me. So I don’t know why I even feel the need for the disclaimer at all.

I feel reduced to a character flaw. I’m not feeling sorry for myself by any means. I just don’t feel the superpower that I am, and I need to. I need my calm. I need my confidence. I quietly carry around with me those things that collectively make me a phenomenal person. I am not self centered or full of myself, and I don’t care whether people know about those talents and the stripes I have earned. I care that I feel them within myself. They give me strength, and right now I feel vulnerable.

People around me are complaining about being required by law to do certain things for which someone is holding them accountable. Some say they don’t agree with how they are being talked to, but they don’t recall the countless soft-talks they’ve had and the build-up to what has become a much bigger problem for themselves and for the people whose jobs require keeping a school afloat. No one is being oppressed. No one is being condemned. But boy, will all those someones say differently. Some (or all, honestly) don’t see the “need” to do what they are required to and therefore reject the rationality of the consequences they face. They complain that they are being held to an “unreasonable” standard. I detest the arrogance and lack of self-respect. I get they don’t like the accountability, but what happened to owning the rebellion? Fighting for one’s right to disregard the rules has been replaced by the young generations with whining. Punk rock is dead. The world has gone soft, or at least the teenagers have.

Breaking the law is not a right, and I don’t condone anarchy, but OWN YOUR FUCKING DECISION.

And now my mind wanders to the chaos in the world. How I wish there were none, but then, without revolution, there would be no change, and nature requires that there must always be change. Chaos in the universe will naturally grow until all goes quiet. Heat death, they call it.

I hate politics. I hate social commentary. I am not an activist. I am not punk rock. But I do own my decisions. And I absolutely despise the whining. Grow the fuck up.

I’ve been in bed all day sleeping because I have neglected my body’s need for electrolytes for several days. Turns out you need those. I almost passed out twice in the last couple of days, and today my head was going to split open, but I took a hot shower and crashed for hours, instead. I feel so loopy and tingly.

The late afternoon sun is beaming through the uncovered window next to my bed. It woke me up like the full moon sometimes does, except full moons aren’t warm like the sun. I like both.

Then I grabbed my phone to make sure I didn’t miss any important texts, and I heard a little voice that said something like “click that funny green icon right there,” and I did, and there was a message from my old friend. Pretty synchronous, if you ask me, given the message was fairly recent and asking about how my reading a book on synchronicity is coming along. Maybe that’s coincidence. I don’t know. Loopy loopy.

So how has the book been coming along, anyway? Well, slowly. I read the foreword, which now that I think about it there might be two of. Anyway, the first one gave the backstory on Wolfgang Pauli and his relationship with Carl Jung. Turns out Pauli was a bit of a hellion in his young years, spending most of his time in brothels and getting in drunken barroom brawls. He had some serious daddy issues, heartbreaks, and nightmares that brought him to the brink, and he masked it all by making historical breakthroughs in physics that eventually won him the Nobel Prize, which his bff, Albert Einstein, nominated him for. Einstein saw Pauli as his mini-me, and together they were a force to be reckoned with. His peers feared and awed him, and even Einstein, himself, was a little intimidated. Pauli was barely 21 when he befriended Einstein and developed his reputation for arrogance and unsurpassed intellect, and he was 31 when his father dragged him to see Carl Jung, who changed Pauli’s life (and vice versa). They, too, became besties, but their collaboration was scoffed at by the scientific community. Carl Jung’s specialty was the unconscious mind, and physics didn’t jive with that too well, though Pauli and Jung attempted to bridge the two. Pauli led a dual life, and now that I think of it, this dual life might in someway mirror his exclusion principle, which he won the Nobel for. Oh, this is going to be a fun thing to write if I ever finish the book.

Aside from all those things I want to do and don’t, I have been dreaming up new ways to teach things and new things to teach. I’ve also been practicing the piano nearly every day, and I am slowly regaining my skills. I used to feel so powerful with those keys under my fingertips, but not so much now. Though I’m not old, I see old age approaching, and while I sit and play I can see myself not as a powerful player but a granny tinkering on her old piano. I am fiercely fighting that. These keys I’m typing on tell a similar story, but piano-playing grannies are a little more cliche than writing ones. I willingly embrace the latter.