I can’t even.
That’s what the kids say these days.
e.g. …
This situation is so ridiculous I can’t even.
This is so frustrating I can’t even.
I highly recommend making the phrase part of your vocabulary.
There’s something cathartic about it.
Coronavirus. I can’t even.
Political conventions. I can’t even.
Lying politicians. Those I really can’t even.
People who believe – and share on social media – everything they read, see, or hear.
Insert today’s (this hour’s) pet peeve here.
I can’t even.
Sometimes my can’t evenness grows my sense of grace, appreciation, and gratitude.
Sometimes it reinforces my caution in a particular circumstance.
Sometimes it tells me pessimism or cynicism might have actually been realism.
Somewhere on the spectrum of expect the best but prepare for the worst seems healthiest, though.
Where exactly on the spectrum … eh, not sure. There might be a Heisenberg principle of can’t evenness. Maybe I could get it named after me.
Hmmm.
Items of note this week …
If you want to join me for a virtual 5K (anytime now through September 7) benefiting engineering students at THE Ohio State University, it’s only ten dollars to register here. Weather and I hope ragweed levels look favorable a couple days from now. I’m pretty sure going for a walk cures can’t evenness.
A small group of ragamuffins continues to hangout virtually on Wednesday nights. Hit me up if you want the link.
Peace out, my uneven people.