It’s two in the afternoon, and I’m house/dog sitting for some friends of mine who are out-of-town. I’m half-naked in today’s picture because, with the exception of the shorts I’m wearing, all my clothes are in the washer/dryer. The day itself is overcast, cool, and drippy. Although I have other plans, I could easily spend the entire afternoon on my friends’ couch, maybe their front porch, fading in and out of sleep. I too am overcast, since I got here at five this morning after having worked twelve straight hours with some other friends who are packing for an upcoming move. (We’re all serious night owls.) Anyway, I only slept for about six hours, which in my fine opinion, is not enough.

And yet I am awake.

Yesterday was my 500th blog (in a row), a milestone  that I intend to commemorate in the next few days with a live video and–most likely–a beer. Or cake. Hell, let’s get a cake, Marcus. Anyway, this is a big deal for me, as I’ve never committed to and followed through with anything else of this magnitude–ever. But more than simply checking off 500 days of blogging, this project has and continues to be–well–my alchemical laboratory, that place where I can meet myself time and time again, my sacred place of change and transformation.

The last time I house sat for my friends (earlier this year), I was doing my damnedest to heal from my second bout of the flu. This after a three-month-long sinus infection and a number of other health problems. (I was zapped.) The day my friends returned, my dad went into the hospital with heart problems. God, life can be a real bitch sometimes. But now things a different–not perfect, but better. My health has gradually improved, as has my father’s. I mention this because I think it’s vital to recognize that yes, sometimes the waters of life absolutely flood in and can almost drown you–but the waters recede.

Personally, one thing that’s nice about having this blog is that it gives me a daily record of my life. Last night during a snack break, my friends and I put down our cardboard boxes and packing tape, went outside, and pulled their patio chairs into the middle of their yard. There we craned our necks toward the sky in search of the Perseid Meteor Shower. Unfortunately, it was overcast last night too–cloudy. And yet I still saw four shooting stars. At least I’m pretty sure I saw them. That was something my friends and I discussed–the meteors happen so quickly, it’s easy to think, Did that really just happen? Likewise, with personal change, things often happen so slowly, I have a tendency to think the same thing–Is anything really going on here?

But–again–I have this record.

So I know.

I am changing.

Looking back, I can see it.

The waters are receding.