The truth is… since I posted this blog I shaved off my beard and the bench I’m sitting on isn’t at a park at all. I’m sitting at the outdoor area at my hotel room, but the truth is, I think I like it here.
It reminds me of how something so familiar can help to ground you back to earth like that black wire on a car battery that needs a jump start.
The truth is, I remember that I love being able to know where everything is, and how even though I know there are deer lurking about, I hadn’t seen one for sixteen years until she jumped out in front of my rental car tonight.
The truth is, I enjoy my single Seattle life, I like getting into innocent trouble with millennials, and I look forward to the near future when I might look back on this blog and think it was all in my head, but the truth is, I know it’s not.
It’s just like that song I used to sing or that phrase I always hear about how much greener the grass is on the other side of the coin, the choices I make in my life, or the option to leave early at the end of my shift.
The truth is I’ve been finding out more about myself by simply stopping the action of “trying” to find out more about myself.
I may be living somewhere else physically and dwelling somewhere else mentally, but this southern suburban sprawl is pulling on my heartstrings and the truth is, that’s not a bad thing at all.
Complaining Is An Art Form 