A thought hit me last Friday night, three hours after clocking out. 

When will I no longer be needed?

It's happened before. Off the team. Broken by media.

Fatigue. Exhaustion. Frustration. Contempt. Apathy.  

When will the position that's paid for this site end?

When will I hang up my black gloves?

When will I no longer have to stand and stare?

And change my personality from day to night. 

Searching for mendacious malcontents. 

When will I achieve my next mark?

Where will the next fist land?

Or the next splash, spit, and verbal assault?

What will my words be closer to the end?

Kindness, gratitude, and joy?

Enmity, dissolution, and shame.

Both are possible.

I wasn't working at the time these thoughts darted.

I was staring at a line I wasn't in.

Nor one I formed.

Nor one I cared to join.

Yet clocked in, a day later

Everything is fine.

And these thoughts don't occur. 

But the memory of them does.

My time on these pages is done,

When I say it's done.

More enemies to face

More time to learn

More battles to be won

More time to realize

I don't want to go.

But need to for three hours

Give or take

To realize the world spins without me

Doors stay open without me

People are patient without me

 

But it feels good

To practice peace amid violence.

To open up,

To spin.

And to know when the world stops and things fall apart

I can put all of these thoughts aside

And get back to work.

Saturday Fake No. 1 (257): In The Annapolis

Simple subtraction is hard to screw up, but girl, you made the next few look like MENSA candidates. If you're going to pass for 25, maybe you should learn you didn't have to count that high in the first place.

Saturday Fake No. 2 (258): IlliNO

Another case of ... I just saw you take my friend's fake, but mine is so good I'll get ... oh, it was already creased and ... now it's in your pocket?

Saturday Fake No. 3 (259): Insert 6-inch Joke Here

We're all adults - we don't need to laugh at a man who is 6-foot-3 posing as someone 5-9. But if you have a few, please comment below.

Saturday Fake No. 4 (260): 12 Angry Mentors

A group of 12 walks up, but leading the way of a mixed bag of birthday guests, friends and family, is a young man with a fake so I bad I had to ask for everyone else's up front to make sure he was the only dimly-lit bulb of the bunch. He was.

He was also friends with a guy who works at my gym, who was happy to regale me with the story that followed, where the young man not only had a fake but a fake of a different person. 

All honesty, I didn't even notice. It was only too weak of a job to warrant a double take, let alone that long of a single take.

Saturday Fake No. 5 (261): You Have Such Pretty Blue Eyes

"But my eyes are Brown." Yes, I know, I was speaking to the woman in the ID. NEXT!

Saturday Fake No. 6 (262): New IlliNO

Illinois changed their IDs, and I was sweating whether or not I'd be able to catch one. Well, I found one. Now time for the next challenge.