Why didn’t any of you jabronis tell me I should start meditating?

Seriously. The first time I did it a couple weeks ago, for a whole five minutes, I couldn’t believe I’ve gone this far without it.

I’ve tried to do it everyday since. If it’s a work day, I try to make it happen before a meeting so that I’m ready to roll. I sit cross-legged on my couch, place my hands in my lap, lower my chin, close my eyes, and focus on my breathing for a bit. I always come out of it feeling stupidly refreshed, like I just slept in a bed of bacon egg and cheese sandwiches and for sixteen hours and woke up to Scarlett Johanssen bringing me a medium iced just the way I like it. Clearing my mind and shutting down my turbo powered mental monologue for even ten minutes leaves me relaxed the rest of the day.

Take today, for instance. I spent the morning raging against the wide variety of dipshits making this pandemic worse than it needs to be, talking to my houseplants, and generally being sort of useless. Ten minutes with an empty mind, feeling every tense part of my body pop and relax, and the dipshits weren’t holding me back anymore. I’m pretty sure I heard my houseplants thanking me.

I understand that between the bicycle, the hair, and the new age bullshit you might be getting worried about me. Don’t worry, loyal blogonauts; I’m not degenerating into a crazy hippie, although you should probably still heed Cartman’s advice and not follow me to a second location. I’m just stealing the good parts of their lifestyle. Meditation will probably never get me to the intergalactic mind door leading to the throne room of the omniscient Lord Zororgalzan and all the secrets of existence, but if it can help me reset myself and get me to stop swearing at all the dipshits so often…yo, that’s the shit.

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