Walking out to the dark parking lot after yoga tonight, an intensely surreal moment. I saw my old red car waiting for me under the lights, the old car I leeched from my last marriage; originally "sporty" when I was young, now all streaked with salt, chunks of ice and snow stuck in the wheel wells, the car I'd carefully parked under those lights so I'd feel safe when I came out alone. Clicking my keys to unlock it for probably about the 27,000th time, a wave of extreme sadness and weariness washed over me...tired of the way things are, the drudgery of Flint and trying so hard. Day after day and now year after year, the same old red car waiting for me. For just a moment all the delusions and illusions fell away, and what was left was nothing more than the downright deadening repetitiveness of life, how utterly ordinary it is most of the time, how we're trapped in so much daily angst, how it never lets up. I wonder if this how people feel just before they die -- like, enough already.