Diiiiiisssssconnnnnntennnnnnntttttt
You know that old commercial where a mans deep voice slowly says "Diaareeeeaaaahhhh" as an overlay to some horrific scenario? No? Nobody ever remembers that commercial. It was my families favorite thing to say, for a very long time, because we are weird. And hilarious. Anyways, I keep saying "Discontent" in that exact voice lately. It pops up at the most inconvenient times, this terrible discontent. It makes you run for relief. It embarrasses you in public spaces. It is, I think, my genetic herald. My coat of arms would be a face with furrowed brows and bit lip, looking longingly off into the distance at some vague but undoubtedly better than place. Stupid discontent. So, I try to force myself to stop and think about things I am grateful for in the moment every time I start getting that anxious roiling in the gut that heralds Diiiiisssssscooonnnnnteeeeennntttt. I wake up every morning, mostly healthy. Sometimes sore, but only because I either kicked ass the d