I experience anxiety.  Rather frequently.  Much more frequently than I like.  Much, much more frequently than I think anyone would ever guess.  It sucks.  It feels like my subconscious is questioning every last damn thing I’ve ever done, am doing, and ever will do.  All at once.  All the time.  And there’s nothing I can do about it.

I dreamed about my grandma last night.  I dreamed I got a phone call from her, and it was weird. 

Some might have noticed that I’ve not posted anything for quite a while.  They might also have noticed that what I have written has mostly been short.  Like, short-short.  Like, probably written in an hour or less and posted without any recourse to drafting, contemplation, or even editing.  Yeah.  They’d be correct in thinking that.