From This Satellite Dish

Things have been so hectic lately. So much bustling activity, my brain
feels full to bursting with all of these left over endorphins swimming
around up there -- the remnants of my fight or flight mechanism. (It's
been fight lately... to the tooth.) A letter from my sister reappeared
last night, just as the self-doubt began its infinite loop in my head:

"You do not have to be good, emily, only fight with ridiculous bravery
to protect what alchemy's afforded you, that is, an unwavering thirst
for truth, understanding in the face of ignorance and the ability to
accept change, grow, move on."

There is no time for hesitation. Although this weekend, I hope there is
time for lounging. Pittsburgh. I drew Yann Martel last night before I
went to bed, I looked around my room and began to wonder how things
could have possibly ended up this way. I remembered the Alchemist, that
when you want something greatly enough, all the universe conspires with
you. I offer thanks to my best friends for providing the detached
perspective that I've been needing to get myself back on track. More
and more I am aware that I have arisen from a great slumber; I'm still
scratching the dust from my eyes, but there is this clarity that somehow
I had forgotten about.

"From wing tip to wing tip -- what's the meaning of any of this?"

So very thankful.