No one likes brown air; thick, chewy, POINTY air. I am really sick of smog. It literally hurts to breathe. The beautiful Wasatch and Oquirrh Mountains are not to be seen, and haven’t been visible for weeks. All the exhaust from the copper smelter, the oil refineries, and the 5 billion cars on the road here every day is trapped on top of me (okay; US) by high pressure. (I did say 5 billion, because I MEANT IT.)
In spite of the lack of clean air (=oxygen), I feel really hopeful. Not sure why. I feel alright—-good, even—on the inside. Like I’m comfortable in my own skin. (Do you care about any of this? How could you possibly??) Somehow, it doesn’t even matter to me whether you care or not! And I guess that’s the deal right there. I feel like just being me, making myself vulnerable. It’s a freedom-thing, I s’pose. (lol) Baby, life is good. Smog and all 
