I like working hard for my endorphins. That feeling in your chest after a challenging run is far beyond the low-cost pleasure of half a dozen Oreos. Skip the drugs - I’ve decided not to take shortcuts to the wonder of nighttime gazing and daytime dreaming. I’ve traded the warm rush of flirtatious blushes for the slow, creeping affection of strangers made family in a quiet east Austin congregation. I could chase fleeting emotion to the furthest horizon, but I much prefer cultivating the uncommon kind of feeling that grows deep and strong and strangely inflammable. A rare variety of exquisite experience, patiently grown and harvested at the appointed time.