There is chaos all around me and there is little I control... my own body, my own home, yeah, that's about all. I have my own space in this world and it's my Brooklyn apartment. I decorated it to my liking, all the closets are filled with my stuff and my cat is allowed in every room. I can watch TV till I feel like turning it off and I can dance around to my turntable music as long as I don't piss the neighbors off. I can walk around in my undergarments or I can have naked time. I can cook malodorous foods and go to sleep when I choose. It's the only place I have control of.
And then there is my body; the only body that I make the rules for. With this body, I choose what to eat and when to move it around. I can treat it nicely because that's what it deserves. I can dress it up or dress it down. I can put ink under my skin and rings in my ears and when it hurts I give it medicine. This body of mine doesn't work too well at times so I take it to the doctor and ask for some help. Control over my body and my living space keeps me feeling OK with the stuff I can't control.
Everyone else is part of the great chaos and I must accept that there is only so much I can do. I can't pick my family and I can't fix them. I can't pick my students and I can't fix them either. I can save myself and I can make repairs as needed. I can plan my day from morning to night, but I can't plan for things not turning out right. There are other people in this world and who knows what they will do. They have their own bodies and they have their own needs and their own spaces to go home to.
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