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May 4, 2006
"This too shall pass,"I say. To myself, aloud sometimes, just above a whisper. Most times silently, but shouting with impatience inside the silence.

The recitation of these four words is about as "zen"as I'm willing to get now. The "this"that I'm waiting to pass has gone on for way too long, and I just want to race around it like a dog herding sheep and bark incessantly at it and force it to do what I want it to do. Which is, of course, to pass already, so I can get on with my life again. Finally.