As I darted in and around the internet last week, I curated the newishly usual list of links to share with you at the end of the week. It may seem like the links are random, and they are, mostly, but I always spend a little bit of time organizing them in a way that might tell a somewhat cohesive story. To someone. Who picks up on it. A curated collection of anything, what they are and how they are put together, is often a reflection of whatever is important to the curator at the time.
About midway through organizing, editing, and re-arranging the list to post today, late as usual, I came across a story that basically tells the entire story of all of last week's links and life combined, in one place and makes those links individually not that important, at least not important until maybe tomorrow, not until you read this girl's first-person post about having a stroke at the age of 33, not until you get lost in the do-I-need-to-research-webMD-to-see-if-I'm-at-risk questions as you read through the beginning, not until you "find meaning," not until you have an hour or two or take an entire afternoon off from editing a list of links to think about memories and emotions and recognizing the hole in your heart and betraying your secrets that you don't even know you have and saving your life and truly living in the present. Dang.
(I will share the rest of the links in another post. They're still good reads.)