I think it was Woody Allen who said “80% of success in life is just showing up.” This is me showing up. And with a heavy heart, admitting I’m doing it begrudgingly so. Knowing my cycles like I do, and my bullshit like I do, it really hurts me and those around me when I fail to show up. I have a propensity for the behavior, and the imbalance is one I’d like to change.

Sorry, still no arts. My efforts have been in minimizing so bad coping habits. Still eating decent, thank god. But exercise, sleep, and a few others have been all over the place. My guess is this dower mood is the culmination of little bits adding up over the past weeks. Audible groan. Man, you know when I’m doing it all right, I’m invincible. Then these episodes come and I feel mighty humble.

So, uhg, I do get points for showing up. And really, truly it’s not at all bad once I do. Carrying that mood, though what a heavy chore. . . I prefer to put in four or five paragraphs here, so these last two might be strained.

In a weeks time, there will be a road trip to escort my ninety some-odd grandmother to a family reunion out east. Its been a tough year for her. Some of her closest family and friends have passed last Christmas. I think she feels she’s out of people to talk to. Or, the people who talk are shining her on for a favor. She’s done a lot for me, and escorting her is the least I can do to pay her back. I’m hoping for her sake, the trip is kind and meaningful. I expect it will be.