Stuck on a nostalgia trip. This was my first “real” fire. I say “real” because this fire had a real shot of getting out of hand and harming many of us. The fire jumped the line we spent all day building and spread across our only escape route, knocking it out. Once night fell, we were lost. It was blacker than black. All we had was the light of our headlamp and the experience of our crew boss. Every tree looked the same. The floor was covered in tree litter and the slope was steeper than hell. We hiked all night until finally we found the dozer line we carved out earlier in the day. The soft dirt felt amazing. We loaded into our vehicles and many of us, me included, crashed on the way back to camp. If I was a fire virgin before that day, I wasn’t anymore.

It made me love firefighting so much.

I’m writing something that made me go back and look through my old firefighting pictures. This was taken on the Liberty Fire from 2017. Over a million acres burned that year. I loved the long days and steep hikes, the crappy food and good company. I miss those days.

Today I had one of the absolute best experiences with a doctor in my life. Although she had to cut into me with no anesthetic and I have to be on antibiotics for a week, I’m happy. Finally some good feelings! Here’s a random picture of some beautiful ducks because why not!

Last month I said that I wished I knew more about CSS. Well, since then, I’ve taught myself enough to build a website I’m proud to call my own. After weeks of hard work, I think I’m finally done with my redesign. I need to stop and focus on my writing and photography again.

I have another doctor’s appointment tomorrow, but this time I’m seeing a new doctor. I hope she can help me.

A fresh coat of snow has fallen and everything is white. More and more people I know are getting the virus. I hope we can make it through winter in good health. I hope.

“One day this will all end,” I wrote in July, “and the question I ask myself is whether it was worth it.”

COVID has made me confront my own mortality more than anything else I’ve ever experienced, and all I want to do is squeeze as much life as I can out of my allotted time on earth. I want to push myself until I can’t move anymore, until I can’t breathe anymore, and I wish to die with a smile on my face and a legacy worth existing, worth the blood, sweat, and tears I’ve shed and will shed.

I have to keep reminding myself that everything I do matters. That my life matters, that my actions matter, that my words matter.

But goddammit do I wish I can enjoy the pure beauty of existence sometimes. That this breath is the most beautiful thing to ever exist, and that this breath is enough.

I slept for over nine hours last night, and I’m amazed at how better my days are when I get enough sleep. It started to snow a little bit ago. I miss the summer and its warm days, but I’m stocked on blankets and coffee at home, so I’m ready for a warm and cozy weekend.

I think it might be one of those four hours of sleep kinda night. I saw a few young students yesterday lying together on the grass and telling each other what they saw in the clouds. I remember I used to climb trees. Getting old is awful.

I’ve been going through old photographs and getting lost in memories. I remember the sights and sounds and feelings when I took this photograph. I had just bought my first macro lens and it helped me see the world in a whole new way.

“That looks like something living,” a friend of mine told me. What do you see?