Pratchett’s writing taught me a lot: The World sucked, but an interest in basic decency went a long way. That people as a whole could be terrible, and that the universe at large wasn’t involved in what we were doing, but that what we were doing was important on it’s own infinitesimal scale that was what mattered. That people and places and things were worth getting into, even if no one else thought so, and even if you weren’t good at them. It was what was in you that mattered. If you wanted it, you could, and should, participate in it for as long as it felt right. That you should be yourself as you wanted yourself to be. Not as other people wanted you too. (Ook)

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I’ve been trying to get out of my head by thinking about basic decency lately. It helps having a job with opportunities to do that fairly frequently.