justice
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The half growl/half crow of Eddie Vedder has long been a part of my own, personal war cry. It both fed and poured out my teenage angst—my frustration with the things that were senseless, wrong, and unjust in the world, and my desire to be free from all of the pain and confusion and devastation
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I once, according to my dad’s telling of the tale, came downstairs from my room, obtained a jar of jam from the refrigerator, took a spoon from the silverware drawer, and started to eat jam directly from the jar. When Dad questioned me, and asked what I was doing, I became defensive. Whatever was happening
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The other night, I was watching the latest episode of How to Get Away with Murder. And I won’t let loose any spoilers, because only asshats let loose spoilers from the best and most intense cliff-hanging shows. (I’m looking at you, people on the train loudly discussing plots and outcomes that we financially challenged people
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I’ve watched this progression happening inside my home over the past month or so. The container garden in my sun porch at some point brought little flying bugs into the environment. Whether they came from the soil or from the great outdoors is unclear, but they arrived, nonetheless. And I have tried several remedies that
Learning To Be Whole 