Who will we become?

Grief is a new thing for me.

I've spent a little time with it here and there at the end of relationships. At the end of friendships. At the end of eras. But not the big losses. The life-changing,  reevaluate-what's-important kind. Or maybe grief, like childbirth (which I've never done at all so why on earth am I using it as a metaphor?), is something you do eventually forget enough of that the next time it's startlingly dramatic?

I saw my therapist for the first time in 18 months because I'm not managing my reactions to life well right now. I yelled at WC when he said I checked the placement of his toe wrong (he was trying on new shoes and he wanted me to check toe placement and apparently this isn't a skill I have). I also yelled at one of my employees for helping. She was. Just not precisely, exactly, 100% the way I would have done it had I done it myself which I couldn't which is why she was helping. I mostly hate everything that isn't perfectly behaving exactly as I need it to.

This is not a healthy way to approach the world.

A PreEnactment

Open to an interrogation room lit only by a single overhead bulb. There is no natural light. Only a single table with two folding chairs. The walls are concrete. The floor is that weird sticky tile we all had in our kitchens growing up. Linoleum. Yeah, Linoleum. Perfect for cleaning up vomit and lazy children.

The best of humanity

In series (season) five of the new Doctor Who Series (stay with me), the Doctor and his companions stumble upon the original species of earth-ians, called Silurians. Primitive people living underground, basically waiting their turn to inhabit the surface of the earth again. Or trying to wait. (Seriously, stay with me.)

Humans accidentally invade the underground home and the Silurians get super pissed thinking they're under attack. Chaos ensues and each species takes hostages.