A Bunch

Thursday, March 27, 2025

Good morning, that wonderful way.

¡Olé! O/

Up and at ‘em.

You got this.

Nobody is a better you than you.

Do your day proud, quiet, reserved or loud.

Do your best you.

Got out my motivational Ghos+ clichés to brighten your day and lift your spirit.

Hope all’s well. Do your best you.

Sunshine’s calling.

On with our show.

At some moment sometime ago, I looked at some book laying on some table and thought, “That’s just a bunch of sentences someone strung together.”

Chances are you’ve not had that thought. It’s a good helpful one.

Good helpful thoughts are a good helpful reason to have me around.

It’s a book; a bunch of sentences.

But, do this:

• Check your text message history as far back as you can.
• Check your online post history back to its origins.

A bunch of sentences.
A book called Your Life.

Watch your grammar.

Really.

Not in a stuffy-stuffy grammar gal kind of way.

No.

Your use of punctuation, even your emojis, say so much about you. 👻O/🌅

Staccato sentences with ‘quick emoji press sends’ added up, show a get-it-done life. Days spent in ‘go-go-go...’ an athlete with a daily planner text records look like that.

The more frequent your walls-of-text the more introspective you are, the more likely to be a reader you are too.

Chances are reading this means you’re the type of person with a good wall-of-text or two (thousand O/).

Hopefully you have a healthy mix of the two. There are staccato checklist tasks to do each day.

Dinner, laundry, etc. Care for you physical body stuff.

But there’s no reason to keep your physical body alive and well if you don’t have wall-of-text worthy meaningful moments.

If you’re a kinesthetically inclined person, this doesn’t mean sit-down and read a book (though it does wonders for your health).

No.

It is always better to dance than to run on a treadmill.

A dance is an athlete’s wall-of-text expression of moments.

Sun’s up.

By the window, Abe’s chin on the loveseat cushion… eyes open, fall, fall, slow fall… Awake! Just the wind, not a squirrel. Fall, fall, fall…

Me with dreams of what a life not spent fighting illness might be like.

How many words, deeds and friendships never made?

What romance was lost?

What’s a world like where every spin doesn’t start with: Get well, then get to live.

Having won a war how to grieve one’s whole life lost to win it?

But the Sun’s up and it is wonderful.

Whoever, whatever, planned it that way; it is beautiful.

Maybe I gained what so many lost or never knew is required for a good life: Appreciation.

Remission, the word makes me laugh.

Like you have another chance to live your dream’s mission for a good life.

Here’s to my chance. O/

Take care, appreciate your time, and make a wonderful day.