Isn't it interesting that days I would rather forget are the ones that alter so much? That "forgetting" a day is so easy in the good-quiet-mundane, the days we fight for and work for and hope for. But the other days, the hard days, the days where nothing is going well. Those days etch into memory.

I am convinced that the older I get the worse a bad day is, and the better off I am to deal with it. It's not the events that scare me but the power I have to change them. It is not that I can't control others but that suddenly I control myself.