I don’t know what to do with a crazy person.  I don’t mean someone like me, harmlessly crazy, wacky.  I mean genuinely delusional, fucked in the head, crazy.  Ought to be in a hospital somewhere crazy.  That kind of crazy.  What do you do with a person like that who refuses to acknowledge reality despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary?  Fuck if I know.  So I’ll do nothing, which is fine with me because I have my own damn life to live, I don’t need to be fucking with a bunch of crazy assholes.

Culling those parts of our lives that cause stress is a freeing and strangely painful process.  I liken to when my Dad died.  I cried, but not because he was dead, I was actually glad and felt as if I’d been released from some invisible prison.  No, I cried because that dream had never died until he did.  The dream of having the Dad who scrutinized my boyfriends, protected me, took care of me.  That dream died when he did and THAT hurt like a motherfucker.

It’s a similar feeling when you give up on someone.  But like the man said, you gotta know when to fold.

I figure we learn something new every day and today mine was pretty cool.

In tropical waters there exists a kind of squid; a teeny, weeny, itty, bitty, transparent squid squirting around in the ocean. The scientific name is Cranchia scabra and it reaches a size of only 150 mm which translates to about .6 inches for us dumb Americans.

This tiny little guy has the remarkable ability to pull into himself and turn himself into a semi-rigid, fluid-filled ball as defense against predators.

Isn’t that cool? How often have you ever wished you could do the same? Maybe without the fluid part, eww.

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