It’s 11:09 PM. Tea continues to percolate. I lose myself in my current chamomile tea encased in a big clay coffee mug with a lion and the words, LEO, etched on it. I am purposely not one for astrology, because I took it so literally it almost ruined a friendship. I dare not contend with the stellar phenomena. And yet I cherish the cup, bought in my college town’s coffee shop, during the time I was pursuing a degree. It has been a long time since I have done many things, one of which is to take a class. I am, however, all geared up to take another, and soon. I fear beginnings. For instance, I cannot get myself to “suit up” and swim at our local gym. If I could only break through the water a couple times maybe I could overcome this inertia. It is strange that, in most cases– whether it’s tennis class, a trip, or a reunion I’m supposed to attend– the existing force against my accomplishing these tasks is great. And my resistance to the force? Usually, seemingly without consequence. It instead is with the force of the fates, the litany and structure of my days, however haphazard, or strong– that decides whether I surpass the inertia.