[in which I type for 5 straight minutes stopping only when the timer goes ding]

The past few months have gone by in a Talladega Nights kind of way.

I’ve done my best Ricky Bobby, running wildly around the track in his underwear, convinced he’s on fire. Yes, I also wore a helmet.

But now I’m back in the land of la, and doing my best to just. Be.

Sometimes it feels like the sole purpose of life is to see how much it can tempt you to get really, really cynical. Which does battle in my heart and head with the fundamental fact that I really enjoy being happy and hopeful.

There was an article (somewhere smart) about that, recently…how as human beings, we’re actually programmed to be optimists. Hm. Wonder who wrote that. Might be an interesting comment if it was coming from, say, science.

I’ve fought some big and mini battles, recently – all with myself, and all about disappointment, letting go, blah blah enlightenment.

C and I are taking a trip to a country known for its spirituality, and part of me is intrigued and part of me is slightly worried. I mean, what happens if I’m, somehow, AFFECTED by this?

A Sandy of the soul