Has it really been April since the last time I wrote? Yes, and we can blame it on analysis paralysis (having too many writings in the Noted app of my phone, imprisoned by the insecure need to revise them, and revise again) and having my arm cut off, i.e., not having a laptop to bring around because of a busted screen. Otherwise, life has been okay. Almost the robotic Good, my response to customers who start an order for coffee with the courteous How Are You Today? I like these fine folks though. Better than people who can’t even look you in the eye throughout an entire transaction, or the ones who shove a credit card at you before anything’s even been spoken. Good times. If you don’t already know, I’ve been a barista for the past months. Anyway, I’m OK. So here I am, just showing up, here, and maybe something will happen. Or not. But in case it does, let’s get it started: Lately I’m learning to forgive myself, which is harder than I even understand …