I Am Claiming My Happiness

A Snapshot

Friday is most often my favorite day of the week, but today, this Friday feels special. I woke up long before the cock of the crow–body clock had its own plans. There was a light mist in the air before the impending rain. A short walk with the dog presented a sense of presence–a sense of #relief.

I could feel it deep down in my bones–today is truly going to be a great day. I say so. I’ll make it so.

May Friday grant you whatever you may need today. I am claiming my happiness–I wish the same for you, too.


Originally shared via LinkedIn.


*The last five days have been the break I needed. Sometimes it’s best to step away from everything and feel EVERYTHING while it’s fresh and painful. I allowed myself the chance to move through the weight of bad news and still grieve without shame–without harming myself or others. A breath of fresh air is often more than simply inhaling the gifts around us. Thank you everyone for your kind words, thoughts, prayers, emails, etc. This is such an awesome community, and I’m grateful for it.

That Awkward Saturday Morning Smell You’re Not Supposed To Talk About

Photo by オム via ReShot

Flash Fiction

Chris sat on his balcony engulfed by the Saturday morning breeze—eyes bounced back and forth—blazing on a blunt the size of a sausage link. He had a uniquely relaxed smile plastered on his face. As he inhaled a toke, he exhaled the stress from the prior week. Working in IT had its perks, but he was becoming at odds with his current position.

His neighbors, he thought, would surely report him as soon as they smelled the smoke slowly slithering further down each floor. Saturday was his kickback and take no shit day. It had been the day to forget the troubles of the past week and move forward into the coming one with a rational mind and a happy heart. He almost always did this after his early morning smoking session. 

His roommate was a flighty bartender who worked late nights and slept until 2 pm every day. No harm. No foul. Who really had the balls to tell the property manager on a grown-ass man? Everyone was too busy living their lives, trying to keep their heads above water, and steer clear of each other as best as they could. He was one of those people. Wasn’t everyone else?

He’d often lose himself there on the balcony—drifting off to the ocean—one of his favorite places to be. He grew up in San Francisco and spent at least six years in Tampa, Florida. He was no stranger to the open waters. It was where he could be his most vulnerable self. He worked through many problems while moving his naked feet through the sand on various beaches—maneuvered through life accordingly without flouncing and losing his sense of self.

He deserved every Saturday morning smoking session he engaged in—earned it! The sun sashayed into his view, opened up its eyes, and pressed its rays onto his balcony. He closed his eyes, took another toke, and blew the smoke from his mouth as quickly as he inhaled it. 

Who really had the balls to tell the property manager on a grown-ass man? Everyone was too busy living their lives, trying to keep their heads above water, and steer clear of each other as best as they could. He was one of those people. Wasn’t everyone else?

Really, who?


Originally published via Simily.