Antidisestablishmentarianism

I didn’t need to look up the spelling; I learned this word at age 7. After asking my father what the longest word in the world was, he had me memorize it. I grew up with a love of words and language. Recently a neighbor befriended me and used a word I’d previously only read: alacrity. I can’t overstate my joy when this happens. Not saying my vocabulary is so large it’s never expanded, but it’s rare for me to hear words I’m unfamiliar with. That probably says more about my choice in friends than anything else. And living in FL for the last 7 years. I’ll die on this hill; going south will have even the most average IQ holders feeling like Stephen Hawking. You know you’re in the wrong room when you are, in fact, the smartest one there.

Speaking of biodad; I did the cheek swab. Came out to be a 50% match. Which apparently, in some ways, is better than the donor with 70%. According to his treatment coordinator he’s refused to take any “stranger” donation; this was news to me. It was also news that if I said yes, I’d be required to go to Tampa for 2-4 months while going through the process. After hearing about my medical ordeal in 2019, her view was that he should go with the 70%. She exclaimed, “Oh my god, you went through so much. Was your father aware of this?” Incredulous as everyone else when I expressed that yes, he’d been aware of the accident. No, he’d not called, emailed, visited or sent carrier pigeon; though he lived 3 hours away. I advised her that he’d have to go with donor, because I wasn’t signing up for that. After weeks and no crisis of conscience; I think I’m ok with that.

Of the many myriad job offers, I’ve finally chosen one and begin on November 1. Part of me still thinks taking it is just another excuse to not write, excuse #24601. It allows me to not follow my true path; not strike out and carve my own way. It’s safe; completely known. Choosing this will not challenge me in any way, shape or form. I’d love to be wrong about that. I guess, for now, it’s just a port. I need to figure out a way to ignite my own furnace of motivation so I can at least attempt to flesh out this damn novel. I’ll need something to keep me warm through my first northern winter in nearly a decade. And unless there’s an outlier in the world of dating who rises to the challenge of my annoyingly discerning palate; my own creative fires will have to suffice.

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