In On Photography, Susan Sontag wrote:

All photographs are memento mori. To take a photograph is to participate in another person’s (or thing’s) mortality, vulnerability, mutability. Precisely by slicing out this moment and freezing it, all photographs testify to time’s relentless melt.

In The Obstacle is the Way, Ryan Holiday wrote:

Every culture has its own way of teaching the same lesson: Memento mori, the Romans would remind themselves. Remember you are mortal.

I’ve been thinking a lot about memento mori today, about how little time I have to waste away, how I want to make every moment count. My biggest enemy is myself. I wish I could get out of the way sometimes, to slow down and appreciate the beauty all around me, to actually let the world inside my walls.

One of the benefits of wearing a mask outside is the fact that it hides my face. I’m so scared of vulnerability that I hide so much of myself from the world just to feel safe. But it’s not until I take my mask off that I truly feel like myself. Vulnerability is power.

When I was a wildland firefighter, I loved spending weeks sleeping in my tent with nothing but the essentials. Since retiring, I’ve grown used to superfluity. My dilemma is figuring out if I have the strength to get rid of what I don’t need for a life spent on the road.

I’m thankful for silliness.

Noclip’s documentary on Microsoft’s Flight Simulator is absolutely amazing. The tech required to recreate our entire planet, all the way down to the weather, gives me strong “are we living in a simulation?” vibes.

Last night I made more adjustments to my website. I’m reminded of my time in high school when I first learned HTML and Photoshop. I remember staying up all night creating a custom header image so I could post it on my old Xanga blog. Glad to see not much has changed.

Before I accepted my current job, I didn’t know if I liked kids or not. But now, I can safely say I absolutely adore them. They give out hugs freely and they always want to play games. Such a lovely set of souls.

There’s a lovely young girl in first grade that loves to call me “Mar Mar.” Every time she sees me, she yells, “Mar Mar!” and runs up to me and gives me a hug. It is one of the absolute best parts of my job. I love it so much.

Some snow has melted and the weather was a bit warmer. One of the students must’ve made this snowball and set it here on the table. They all leave for Thanksgiving break tomorrow and I will miss them, but I will enjoy my extended weekend, too.

When I first moved to Montana, all the provisions I needed fit in two bags. Now, when I look around and see all the new stuff I’ve gathered over the years, I feel a need to declutter and simplify. But I also a feel proud of how far I’ve come. Hmm.