To my regular readers; those of you who read this blog because you care about me (in a good way), and read my words in order to encourage me on my journey, I love you all (Movie - blogger ate your comment when it went down last week - sorry!). Please bear with me for a short while, the below paragraph is not intended for you.
This is my blog. There are many like it, but this one is mine. If you don't like what I have to say, fuck off and stop coming back. This blog is where I express my opinions. My opinions are formed in the crucible of my personal experience. You factor negatively in that experience. This is your own doing. Your opinions and experiences are different. I don't care. If you can't comment here, it's because I don't want to hear from you. If you have something to say here, own it. If I think it has merit, I'll publish it, if it doesn't I will not. You are of course free to disagree with me. Do it elsewhere. Start your own blog. Rest assured I will never read it.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Really? You're even trashier than I thought.
Wondered why you'd been all over the blog again. Also wondered why the contact lenses that I ordered hadn't shown up. Turns out they were delivered two weeks ago. A brief hunt revealed the torn-open plastic bag they'd been dropped off in, tossed in the tall grass across the street. Happily, they'll be replaced at no charge. Apparently, pieces of shit like you do this all the time, the nice lady at the eye doctor's office was not in the least surprised. I guess if stealing contact lenses is the only way to pay for your dope, you've gotta do what you've gotta do, right? What a burnout loser you are. How many of those bandstand checks went right into your personal account? Methinks an audit is in order. Thanks for that friendly mailing with the other committee members' names. That's about to come in very handy! :)
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Spring Has Hatched
Spring has sprung, in the form of oh-so-slightly milder temperatures - translation: above freezing for three days in a row, no less - and nights that have moderated enough that I don't have to run the hot water tap to prevent a frozen pipe. Sugar shacks all over the region (here's a good one the next town over) are starting to boil the sap of sugar maples (Acer saccharum) into pure New England deliciousness. The first green shoots of new grass are seen in the otherwise boggy mess of mud underfoot, and the magnolia and forsythia have buds that are swelling fast, promising to bloom as soon as April rolls around.
Another favorite milestone today - daylight savings time! I know most folks hate losing an hour of sleep, but in my case it means my puppy alarm clock, aka Mooney, permanently set for 4am standard time, now doesn't go off until 5! It's amazing what a difference that makes mentally. There are days when I must be up and about earlier than 5 to get where I need to go for work, here's hoping they are infrequent enough to keep him on this new, later hour.
In other news, spring is also being heralded by the peeping of eight chicks in a brooder (I'm calling it Henway Park, it's a blue monster of a rubbermaid bin) in my garage. All *should* grow up to be laying hens. I say should as there is always the possibility that the hatchery accidentally on purpose included a rooster. If that should be the case, his future depends on how docile he is. Docile = live long and prosper, not so much = the backyard version of the french revolution. Damn I hope they are all the girls they're supposed to be.
Here they are when I brought them home, at one week old:
And here they are one short week later, having doubled in size and already shedding their downy baby fluff and growing their adult plumage:
I cleaned the brooder out completely today and added a training roost. They're trying it out by ones and twos, wobbling all over the place, flapping their wings for balance. Funny stuff. Farm TV - season one, episode one.
These girls came home with me from a workshop at Cold Antler Farm in that lovely part of extreme eastern New York known as "Veryork". Jenna, the proprietor, writes a fabulous blog about her own journey to farmhood. She generously shared some of her hard-won knowledge with ten neophytes last weekend. She also generously gave me more chickens than had been promised, due to people who canceled or who were not ready to bring chicks home quite yet. So instead of one of each breed, I am now proudly owned by four Rhode Island Reds, two Buff Orpingtons (both heritage breeds), and two Ameracaunas, those wondrous layers of pre-colored easter eggs. They lay eggs in various shades of blue, green, or pink. Fascinating chicken fact - the color of a chicken's earlobes (who knew they had earlobes, right?) indicates what color eggs they will lay. Oh, the things I don't know but love to learn!
Another favorite milestone today - daylight savings time! I know most folks hate losing an hour of sleep, but in my case it means my puppy alarm clock, aka Mooney, permanently set for 4am standard time, now doesn't go off until 5! It's amazing what a difference that makes mentally. There are days when I must be up and about earlier than 5 to get where I need to go for work, here's hoping they are infrequent enough to keep him on this new, later hour.
In other news, spring is also being heralded by the peeping of eight chicks in a brooder (I'm calling it Henway Park, it's a blue monster of a rubbermaid bin) in my garage. All *should* grow up to be laying hens. I say should as there is always the possibility that the hatchery accidentally on purpose included a rooster. If that should be the case, his future depends on how docile he is. Docile = live long and prosper, not so much = the backyard version of the french revolution. Damn I hope they are all the girls they're supposed to be.
Here they are when I brought them home, at one week old:
And here they are one short week later, having doubled in size and already shedding their downy baby fluff and growing their adult plumage:
I cleaned the brooder out completely today and added a training roost. They're trying it out by ones and twos, wobbling all over the place, flapping their wings for balance. Funny stuff. Farm TV - season one, episode one.
These girls came home with me from a workshop at Cold Antler Farm in that lovely part of extreme eastern New York known as "Veryork". Jenna, the proprietor, writes a fabulous blog about her own journey to farmhood. She generously shared some of her hard-won knowledge with ten neophytes last weekend. She also generously gave me more chickens than had been promised, due to people who canceled or who were not ready to bring chicks home quite yet. So instead of one of each breed, I am now proudly owned by four Rhode Island Reds, two Buff Orpingtons (both heritage breeds), and two Ameracaunas, those wondrous layers of pre-colored easter eggs. They lay eggs in various shades of blue, green, or pink. Fascinating chicken fact - the color of a chicken's earlobes (who knew they had earlobes, right?) indicates what color eggs they will lay. Oh, the things I don't know but love to learn!
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Into the deep freeze
I took time out of my day today to go join the Bay Colony Pomeranian Club at their monthly luncheon. Great group of very knowledgeable people. Having been intending to join for some time, it felt good to cross that off my to-do list, BUT I feel somewhat less prepared for tonight's extreme cold than I wanted to be. I did everything I planned to do to prepare, really, with the exception of filling up the car's gas tank; but since it is kept in the garage I hope that won't be a problem. I'll feel bad for the attendant when I stop at the full serve station in the morning though! Since I live in the middle of nowhere and it's Sunday night, both stations are already closed or I would go out now. I hate when I remember things like that just a few minutes too late. Like remembering the need to go to the post office or bank at precisely 12:02 on a Saturday. I do that constantly.
It's supposed to go down to -20 dF here tonight, with wind chills to -35. That's 20 with a negative. That's unholy cold. My horses have been given obscene amounts of hay, digesting it helps keep them warm, and they all have heated water buckets as well. I typically put them out in the corral when I leave for work in the morning, but tomorrow they will have to stay in, there is no windbreak in their paddock and frostbitten ears is the last thing I need to deal with. Makes stall cleaning harder but that's a small price to pay. The dogs are pretty sensible and do their outside business in record time when it's so cold, but their little paw pads can get frostbitten if they stay out too long.
Having enjoyed (not!) 48 hours without hot water earlier this week when the pipe under the house froze, the water will be running all night too. I did not enjoy my time in the crawlspace thawing it out, either. I can, and do, do without a lot, but hot water is a non-negotiable modern amenity, one of the wonders of the world, and balm for both the soul and the tired sore body after a day of farm work.
For everyone who wanted an update on Henry (formerly Kris Kringle formerly Crusty), he is, alive, well, and wreaking havoc at my sister's house. In a twist of fate even odder than the ones I mentioned in my original post about him, it turns out that at the same day and hour I was chasing Henry into the cow barn, my sister had to have her sweet cat Pumpkin put to sleep, completely unexpectedly. That felt a little to synchronous and serendipitous to ignore, so, having doubled his weight during two weeks at DarcC's all-you-can-eat buffet and a follow-up appointment with the vet, I handed him over along with all food, toys, and vet records he had already accumulated, with the admonishment that "there is no such thing as a free kitten." Henry is now comfortably ensconced in said sister's household, where he enjoyed climbing the xmas tree (until they took it down - early!), tormenting their sweet dog Buddy, and playing with my nephews. As soon as the antibiotics kicked in and Henry started perking up, he, smart kitty, realized precisely how good life and human attention could be! He is an absolute doll, and far too sweet to be the barn cat I thought he would be. Below are some pics of Henry in his new home. Here's what sister said when she sent the pics: "He is so cute!!!! He's a good boy, we all love him except when the boys are putting together legos, Henry loves legos too, and the boys get annoyed. But they love him too."
A far cry from the crusty, shivering, mucus-oozing bone-rack that huddled in a dog crate here for the first warm night of his life one short month ago.
Stay warm y'all!
It's supposed to go down to -20 dF here tonight, with wind chills to -35. That's 20 with a negative. That's unholy cold. My horses have been given obscene amounts of hay, digesting it helps keep them warm, and they all have heated water buckets as well. I typically put them out in the corral when I leave for work in the morning, but tomorrow they will have to stay in, there is no windbreak in their paddock and frostbitten ears is the last thing I need to deal with. Makes stall cleaning harder but that's a small price to pay. The dogs are pretty sensible and do their outside business in record time when it's so cold, but their little paw pads can get frostbitten if they stay out too long.
Having enjoyed (not!) 48 hours without hot water earlier this week when the pipe under the house froze, the water will be running all night too. I did not enjoy my time in the crawlspace thawing it out, either. I can, and do, do without a lot, but hot water is a non-negotiable modern amenity, one of the wonders of the world, and balm for both the soul and the tired sore body after a day of farm work.
For everyone who wanted an update on Henry (formerly Kris Kringle formerly Crusty), he is, alive, well, and wreaking havoc at my sister's house. In a twist of fate even odder than the ones I mentioned in my original post about him, it turns out that at the same day and hour I was chasing Henry into the cow barn, my sister had to have her sweet cat Pumpkin put to sleep, completely unexpectedly. That felt a little to synchronous and serendipitous to ignore, so, having doubled his weight during two weeks at DarcC's all-you-can-eat buffet and a follow-up appointment with the vet, I handed him over along with all food, toys, and vet records he had already accumulated, with the admonishment that "there is no such thing as a free kitten." Henry is now comfortably ensconced in said sister's household, where he enjoyed climbing the xmas tree (until they took it down - early!), tormenting their sweet dog Buddy, and playing with my nephews. As soon as the antibiotics kicked in and Henry started perking up, he, smart kitty, realized precisely how good life and human attention could be! He is an absolute doll, and far too sweet to be the barn cat I thought he would be. Below are some pics of Henry in his new home. Here's what sister said when she sent the pics: "He is so cute!!!! He's a good boy, we all love him except when the boys are putting together legos, Henry loves legos too, and the boys get annoyed. But they love him too."
A far cry from the crusty, shivering, mucus-oozing bone-rack that huddled in a dog crate here for the first warm night of his life one short month ago.
Stay warm y'all!
Monday, December 20, 2010
There's a sucker born every minute
Saturday morning began much like any other weekend morning in DarcC-land. I awoke, unleashed the hounds, fed and turned out the horses, and even managed to feed myself, all in short order. I then dashed directly off to the local feed store to procure a roll of fence wire, in order to install a new and improved dog yard. However, the universe had other plans, which initially manifested themselves as an inability to get the 5ft high, 100ft long roll of fencing in to the back of the effing car. No amount of rear-seat 60/40 split-bench folding, trunk slamming, and front power seat reclining could make that bad boy fit. Fine. I informed the nice boys who regularly stuff hay, shavings, grain, etc. into my erstwhile vehicle that I would have to return later, when my swedish-pickup (aka volvo wagon) driving friend would be coming to visit; I was certain he wouldn't mind a scenic trip to the feed store. He arrived and didn't mind at all, so off we set.
Only this time, the universe saw fit to have a little kitten start across the road in front of us. Eagle-eyes that I am, I detected scrawny from 150 feet away. As we got closer, instead of scampering, the kitten merely crouched down in the other lane. As we slowly crept by, I got a good look at him and saw that his entire face - eyes, nose, mouth, everything - was completely obscured by a crust of dried pus. Friend kept driving as my freakout began. I'll spare you the details. Suffice it to say that we didn't drive much farther, and luckily I keep my neighbor/vet's number on speed dial. I called her now, informed her that I was about to "do a stupid" and pick up a sick feral kitten, and would she help me, seeing as her office was already closed for the weekend. She said she would, and we returned, sans fence, to the dairy farm where the kitten sighting took place. I saw the kitten, thankfully out of the road, disappear into a hole in the door of a big old barn.
I knocked on the door of the farmhouse and when a man answered the door, pretended (while inwardly seething) to really want a kitten, and ask if I could catch one I had seen go into the barn. "Take them all" I was told. "If you can catch them, people dump them here all the time". Which is undoubtedly true, but 1) when I see its mother and several other probable generations too, you can trap/fix/release for short or no money, call the animal rescue league's spay waggin; and 2) this is a dairy farm, do you really want diseased cats running around your milk cows and veal calves? Bogus. He did find me a cardboard box to carry it home, and told me which barn door to use, and off I went.
I had visions of clambering around the big old place searching for this kitten, but he was in even worse shape than I thought and hadn't gone far, crouching just inside the door, sparing me the need to search and chase. His eyes were so obscured by crust that he didn't even see me reaching for him, and when I picked him up gave only one weak swipe with a front paw, no match for my heavy winter work gloves. Then into the box he went, without so much as a hiss or a yowl, and he was quiet and still the rest of the ride home. Here is a picture taken AFTER we had cleaned up his face! None of the pics capture what a rack of bones he is, held together by nothing but skin.
I put him into a dog crate with a bolster cushion and waited for Neighbor Vet, who didn't take long at all to arrive with supplies. She expertly cleaned his face with dampened gauze pads (I regret not getting "before" pictures in time), listened to him struggle to breathe, declared he had both an upper respiratory infection and a secondary herpes infection in his eyes, injected subcutaneous fluids, syringed human baby food into him, and pronounced him a male of the species. She then generously offered to open up the clinic to get the antibiotics, eye ointments, and de-wormer he required, so we followed her there and got the pills and potions, and returned home to further dose the little guy while she continued on her way to a family function. After the initial dosing, friend and I went to actually get the fence, litter box, teeny food and water bowls, kitten kibble, and dinner, and when I returned little Crusty was sleeping like the proverbial dead, covered in the blanket I'd put in earlier, head propped up on the bolster of the cushion. He woke up long enough for me to rearrange his crate and add the litter pan, and had perked up enough to purr as I cradled and petted him. Wild kitten tamed, at least temporarily.
Here's the reaction from the inmates who run the asylum:
"Holy Crap! It's a kitten! When did we get a kitten? I didn't ask for a kitten! Why was I not consulted?"
Luna, Willow, and Wylie don't look too happy. Midgie is distinctly displeased.
Mooney wonders if he is somehow not cute enough anymore, now that he is a big seven month old boy?
Oblivious to the uproar his presence has caused, Crusty slumbers on... He perked up one more time around nine, just long enough to meow a couple times, and otherwise gasped, gurgled, snorted and sneezed his way through the night. It was so bad whenever I couldn't hear him breathing I thought I'd lost him. But he was still there in the morning, so I guess he decided to live. Neighbor Vet came by to check on him right after I'd dosed him again, and was going to come back to give him more fluids, but wound up coming back to take him home with her to be able to pump fluid into him all day. I only know how to give intramuscular shots to horses, I guess I should learn cats and dogs, and intravenous of all types. He spent last night with her and went to work with her today, to be tested for FIV and FELV. If he had tested positive he would have been put down, happily he is negative for both. He is spending tonight next door as well for a final dose of fluid in the morning and a steam bath all night to help his breathing. I'm working at home tomorrow so he'll come back in the morning, I'll post an update tomorrow.
Only this time, the universe saw fit to have a little kitten start across the road in front of us. Eagle-eyes that I am, I detected scrawny from 150 feet away. As we got closer, instead of scampering, the kitten merely crouched down in the other lane. As we slowly crept by, I got a good look at him and saw that his entire face - eyes, nose, mouth, everything - was completely obscured by a crust of dried pus. Friend kept driving as my freakout began. I'll spare you the details. Suffice it to say that we didn't drive much farther, and luckily I keep my neighbor/vet's number on speed dial. I called her now, informed her that I was about to "do a stupid" and pick up a sick feral kitten, and would she help me, seeing as her office was already closed for the weekend. She said she would, and we returned, sans fence, to the dairy farm where the kitten sighting took place. I saw the kitten, thankfully out of the road, disappear into a hole in the door of a big old barn.
I knocked on the door of the farmhouse and when a man answered the door, pretended (while inwardly seething) to really want a kitten, and ask if I could catch one I had seen go into the barn. "Take them all" I was told. "If you can catch them, people dump them here all the time". Which is undoubtedly true, but 1) when I see its mother and several other probable generations too, you can trap/fix/release for short or no money, call the animal rescue league's spay waggin; and 2) this is a dairy farm, do you really want diseased cats running around your milk cows and veal calves? Bogus. He did find me a cardboard box to carry it home, and told me which barn door to use, and off I went.
I had visions of clambering around the big old place searching for this kitten, but he was in even worse shape than I thought and hadn't gone far, crouching just inside the door, sparing me the need to search and chase. His eyes were so obscured by crust that he didn't even see me reaching for him, and when I picked him up gave only one weak swipe with a front paw, no match for my heavy winter work gloves. Then into the box he went, without so much as a hiss or a yowl, and he was quiet and still the rest of the ride home. Here is a picture taken AFTER we had cleaned up his face! None of the pics capture what a rack of bones he is, held together by nothing but skin.
I put him into a dog crate with a bolster cushion and waited for Neighbor Vet, who didn't take long at all to arrive with supplies. She expertly cleaned his face with dampened gauze pads (I regret not getting "before" pictures in time), listened to him struggle to breathe, declared he had both an upper respiratory infection and a secondary herpes infection in his eyes, injected subcutaneous fluids, syringed human baby food into him, and pronounced him a male of the species. She then generously offered to open up the clinic to get the antibiotics, eye ointments, and de-wormer he required, so we followed her there and got the pills and potions, and returned home to further dose the little guy while she continued on her way to a family function. After the initial dosing, friend and I went to actually get the fence, litter box, teeny food and water bowls, kitten kibble, and dinner, and when I returned little Crusty was sleeping like the proverbial dead, covered in the blanket I'd put in earlier, head propped up on the bolster of the cushion. He woke up long enough for me to rearrange his crate and add the litter pan, and had perked up enough to purr as I cradled and petted him. Wild kitten tamed, at least temporarily.
Here's the reaction from the inmates who run the asylum:
"Holy Crap! It's a kitten! When did we get a kitten? I didn't ask for a kitten! Why was I not consulted?"
Luna, Willow, and Wylie don't look too happy. Midgie is distinctly displeased.
Mooney wonders if he is somehow not cute enough anymore, now that he is a big seven month old boy?Oblivious to the uproar his presence has caused, Crusty slumbers on... He perked up one more time around nine, just long enough to meow a couple times, and otherwise gasped, gurgled, snorted and sneezed his way through the night. It was so bad whenever I couldn't hear him breathing I thought I'd lost him. But he was still there in the morning, so I guess he decided to live. Neighbor Vet came by to check on him right after I'd dosed him again, and was going to come back to give him more fluids, but wound up coming back to take him home with her to be able to pump fluid into him all day. I only know how to give intramuscular shots to horses, I guess I should learn cats and dogs, and intravenous of all types. He spent last night with her and went to work with her today, to be tested for FIV and FELV. If he had tested positive he would have been put down, happily he is negative for both. He is spending tonight next door as well for a final dose of fluid in the morning and a steam bath all night to help his breathing. I'm working at home tomorrow so he'll come back in the morning, I'll post an update tomorrow.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Procrastination
Pouring down raining sideways day. Need raincoat to do horse chores (horses are finally home, post forthcoming, I keep forgetting to take pictures for illustrative purposes). Leave dry warm mudroom apartment for main house, where aforementioned raincoat has been left due to lack of motivation to hang proper coatrack in mudroom. Notice basement lights left on. Go down to basement to turn lights off. Notice water dripping onto basement floor, from ceiling. Quickly put two and two together, arrive at four. Return to first floor to assess damage. Laugh out loud due to irony of drip from second to first floor impacting dead-center on a book titled "Dry" (awesome book, btw, by Augusten Burroughs - highly recommend anything and everything he's written. His brother's not bad either). Rescue piles (plural) of books from deluge, hope they freeze tomorrow until I can dry them out proper, like maybe in the spring. Continue past second floor, also soaked but bereft of belongings, to attic. Laugh out loud due to irony of line of empty buckets under recently repaired and therefore no longer leaking roof at back of house while water pours unabated through leak in roof at front of house. Spew forth vile invective at self's procrastinating tendencies okay long-term behaviour pattern. Move buckets.
Proceed back downstairs. Dial headquarters to inform answering parental unit of new leak newsflash. Sperm donor answers. Inform sperm donor his roof is leaking. Download less succinct, more profane version of prior paragraph. Best he can come up with is "okay, well, we'll clean it up", to which I retort "actually, I was thinking more along the lines of FIXING IT". "okay, I'll tell your mother". Perfect. Thanks for that.
Hang up. Curse day surfed equinesite real-estate ads. Don raincoat, head out into storm to do horse chores. Question sanity. Briefly consider selling farm, re-homing animal collection, quitting day job and assuming new identity. Decide not tonight, maybe tomorrow.
Proceed back downstairs. Dial headquarters to inform answering parental unit of new leak newsflash. Sperm donor answers. Inform sperm donor his roof is leaking. Download less succinct, more profane version of prior paragraph. Best he can come up with is "okay, well, we'll clean it up", to which I retort "actually, I was thinking more along the lines of FIXING IT". "okay, I'll tell your mother". Perfect. Thanks for that.
Hang up. Curse day surfed equinesite real-estate ads. Don raincoat, head out into storm to do horse chores. Question sanity. Briefly consider selling farm, re-homing animal collection, quitting day job and assuming new identity. Decide not tonight, maybe tomorrow.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Desiderata
I love this prose poem by Max Ehrman. Written in 1927, it is every bit as pertinent today. Desiderata - from the Latin for "desired things". Happy Thanksgiving!
Desiderata
Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons,
they are vexatious to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.
Desiderata
Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons,
they are vexatious to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.
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