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February 17, 2003
I try the best I can. I don’t merely move through life the way some do. Though the rhythms of the day often threaten to beat common time with my mind, I wake day after day with the staunch resolution that I will achieve my own tempo. But there is so much working against me. My cadence while walking to the train day and night, the subway’s pulse of clicks and clacks, fingernails tapping against the computer keyboard. It’s all strung together in an endless loop of repetition and routine. What seems stifling at first quickly becomes comfortable and complacent.