Four

In which I still don't know what to write about, but try to keep up the habit of blogging anyway.

This morning I found an oddly squishy cocoon-like thing lying on my desk. It seemed to have eyes, but no shape that would have allowed me to identify it as any specific kind of insect. I assumed it to be leftovers that one of my pet-spiders arachnid roommates dropped from the ceiling, as they occasionally do, and moved it into one of the flowerpots (why not let the plants have the chitin?), but keep checking on it to make sure that nothing hatches from it.

I also observed two pigeons sitting out a storm in a tree, ducking their heads towards the wind going at about 8bft ("Whole trees in motion"). The storm just swooshed over them, while they clung tightly to their swaying and bobbing branch.

I also did, out of sheer restlessness, a stupid amount of pull-ups, which felt good while doing it, but the fatigue now feels way too similar to the kind of muscle-aches I get when being triggered.

Anyway, I found this little self-portrait-thing I drew 8 years ago, when managing as much as one single pull-up seemed utterly unreachable and I felt sure that if I couldn't manage a single pull-up at the age of thirty I might as well accept "not being able to do a pull-up" as part of my identity.