I woke up with my stomach gurgling. Upset about my daughter being sick, me being sick, and work, I figured it was a good time for some Rollins Band. His music keeps me sane in the worst of times and the best of times ... and in the tough times. Tired of illness and stress. Tired of people pushing med leave. Tired of talking the same talking and walking the same walk and not getting anywhere close to my destination.
In high school, the words and wisdom of Hank helped to put things into context. Black Flag was a constant on my Walkman. It made getting to school less dreadful and leaving all that much sweeter. It made me realize that all the petty shit meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. Now, however, all the petty shit isn't petty -- it's what I'm surrounded by. The people who do their best to be the most ignorant. My war, indeed.
The coffee I drink this morning is bitter. I'm slow because my stomach keeps cramping up, and I feel like I gotta puke. I'm going to work to do damage control, because I don't think I can take much of what is being thrown my way, but med leave ain't my way, either. I just don't know where I stand anymore in much of anything.
At least my girl is feeling better. That means the world to me, and that counts for everything. With her, I can shut the rest of the world out and focus where the focus must be. With her around, I don't need to play Rollins Band in the morning.
But she already likes Black Flag, and I hope she comes to the realizations quicker than I did.