A likely combination of emotional stress and poor eating habits seems to have opened me up to some sort of bug I'm trying to fight off (with some success, I think, unless it's SARS or something). Fatigued, occasionally dizzy, the usual. Fun fun fun. It helps if I remember to breathe, though.
I'm discovering, for roughly the four millionth time, that having my mood affected by anything having to do with other people is a really miserable way to live. I want to have a child, so when she gets old enough I can give hints as to exactly how repetitive growing up is. I guess this would be partly cynical (in which case I probably shouldn't do it), but maybe she will remember, the way that I remember things my parents told me, and when she finds herself hitting the same revelation repeatedly she'll write it down for future reference or something.
But that's not really how it works. Realizations come just for us, in each moment and each context, different every time, and beyond intellectual understanding. Hearing from many trusted people that sex has emotional effects won't prepare you for the awesome power latent in that elemental human activity. At best you can be wary.
No, mostly she'll just hit 25 and think, "Wow, my dad's a dork, but he's smarter than he looks." I hope.
What is mine? What do I get to keep? What do I take with me?
Walk with fire. Live without fear. The world can shove off.