Being Grateful in Dark Times: An Ode to the Morning

There is a lot to be said for all shit happening in the world today. There is a malaise of cynicism and hopelessness in the air of late. It would be there no matter what my personal experiences but....

It's now interfering with my job and how I do it. I am learning to navigate in choppy seas, learning how to ride the waves the best I can while retaining a sense of subversiveness and integrity.  K might lose her job because of politics, cruelty, greed, and ignorance. 

One of the things keeping me from being black-pilled is knowing that’s what “they” want me to feel like.

Here’s a small list of what I am grateful for off the top of my head: 

• Mornings that are a bit on the cool side
• Petting a cat in my lap or nearby
• A good cup of coffee
• Watching people from my office window
• Reading late at night (currently on the Libby app on dark mode)
• Bean and cheese tacos
• Cooking
• Dates with my wife
• Driving E to school in the mornings, we have our little routine
• Hoping for better times
• Planning for traveling (work or family) 
• Knowing my workplace is a bit like Cheers, I feel safe there
• Listening to an NBA podcast as I get ready in the morning or driving somewhere

I noticed how many of the items and things above are morning-centric. I don’t feel like a morning person, but I suppose I am in some ways. Heck, I even associate bean and cheese with the morning. 

In the morning, I feel hopeful, a bit in wonderment of what the day might bring. The world is fresh and full of possibility. While I get ready, there is a sense of purpose and action. 

As the afternoon wanes, I begin to realize time is running out, and I begin to see what won't be crossed off the to-do list (or sometimes what was even started). Plans are made to end the day at work, pick up or cook dinner and pick up the kids. 

By the time the evening comes, I've gotten comfy and maybe a bit tired, time is running out to get things done. 

In bed, I sometimes stare up at the dark ceiling and think about the mundane, the sublime, and everything in between. It is in this space I often remember, time is running out, even on my life. So I am grateful for the little things and the hope that the morning light brings. 

I am planning to blog a bit in May when I have more time (ha ha). I would like to do another “Confucius Didn’t Say That” blog post, finally finish a video game retrospective (80% already done), and there was ANOTHER found art object on campus the other day that I took a photo of. 

In the meantime, don’t lose hope and don’t forget to turn the lights out when you leave your home. 

Found Art in Parking Garage (November 2024 - March 2025 )

 Untitled - Found art object - 2024 - Artist Unknown 

This art installation has been at my college since November. It is a simple pair of nail clippers, vibrantly decorated with a pink oval. The anonymous artist left it on a poll in one of the parking garages, and it has been making students, faculty, and staff ponder its true meaning for months.

The artist might be challenging the community to begin the simple act of noticing. Parking garages are places of transition; they are not meant for contemplation. When we arrive, our minds wander toward our destination and we think about what we will be doing at work or school. On the way back into the garage, our minds turn inward, homeward, such as what you might be eating for dinner. In this transition space, we usually go unchallenged, looking down at our phones, lost in our thoughts, or talking with colleagues or friends about our evening's plans. Maybe the artist is telling us, "Wait....not so fast"....the simple appearance of nail clippers, a common item in an uncommon place, can bring us out of our own heads and into questioning why this object was left here, put more broadly, why is anything, anywhere? 

Nail clippers are common objects, but they are also intimate. After all, you only share nail clippers with those you love; a stolen pair of nail clippers is almost as absurd as a stolen toothbrush. This item is perfectly usable and yet no one has taken it or thrown it away. The very idea of touching it is revolting but with a simple wash in alcohol, it would be clean. Nail clippers outside the context of a home are disconcerting. The piece makes viewers wrestle with its dual nature, completely normal and useful but also disturbingly disgusting; an item out of context is an item that does not belong. 

Last week, I came upon the installation to find it in an open position, ready to cut nails. Was it the artist, making another statement? Or was it another viewer, participating in the art?  I simply folded it back to its current position...there's no need to alarm anyone. 

I hope I can enjoy this absurdist art piece for months to come. 

Edit April 2025: It disappeared the last week of March.