Where night is quiet and sleep is rest

I can’t really find anything meaningful to say. California was a delightful break (if I were an inhabitant of Middle Earth, I might have to be an Elf, simply by virtue of the innate pull the sea has on me).

Work has been exhausting of late (occasionally to the point of somewhat giddy panic – I need to find more time for sleep and/or food, I think). It alternately gives me a profound respect for anyone working with customers…or a general pessimism toward mankind that manifests in a sense of entitlement or misanthropism. I am trying to keep the latter to a minimum, but it’s difficult at times. I probably complain about work more than is actually necessary, and I should be thankful I even have a job. It’s all about perspective, isn’t it.

Hello, life lessons.

Next on the agenda: practice mind over matter. Sliced off a bit of my finger today (sounds so dramatic, doesn’t it?) and found from an internally objective point of view that my reaction was a bit on the excessive side. It wasn’t terribly serious (although certainly bled enough),  but my default reaction to anything more than your generic papercut trickle seems to be an internal freak out. Perhaps even though the rational side already knows it’s not life-threatening, there is a natural tendency to fear the worse. However, this does go against my perpetually optimistic tendencies (which, actually, come to think of it, might rather be perpetually contrary: I like to be mindful of other possibilities).
[/end random look into my psyche]

subject: “Bilbo’s Last Song”, JRR Tolkien


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