Date: June 30, 2026
Last night, while watching The Martian for what was probably the sixth or seventh time since my thyroid surgery on May 29, Mark Watney said his now familiar line:
“I’m going to have to science the shit out of this.”
I paused the movie.
Not to watch it again.
To write Scene 24.1 for Paul’s Penance.
The movie became fuel for my own story.
Later, after the movie ended and the room got quiet, my thoughts turned dark.
I could die.
I don’t want to.
I don’t want to spend the rest of my life lonely.
I don’t mind being alone. I’ve learned that much.
But I’d still like someone who wants Dan.
The writer.
The creative.
The podcaster.
Someone to share a creative space, a movie, and a warm bed.
That thought stayed with me as I fell asleep.
Morning arrived with gritty eyes and a pounding head.
I woke up just before the live trading session.
My brain hurt.
Some days begin with inspiration.
Today began with fatigue.
Lunch took us to Steak ‘n Egger, one of my favorite places.
Normally I would have ordered the split pea soup without even thinking about it.
Today I already knew it wasn’t part of the mission.
I studied the menu, ordered grilled chicken, hash browns, and a side salad.
The chicken tasted pre-seasoned.
The hash browns tasted salty too.
Rather than guessing, I pushed them aside and finished the dry salad with lettuce, tomato, onion, black pepper, and a cold Diet Coke.
It was nearly 100 degrees outside.
Here’s the surprising part.
I left satisfied.
Not deprived.
Satisfied.
Eight hours later, I still wasn’t hungry.
The mission didn’t require the perfect meal.
It required a thoughtful one.
The afternoon called for something else.
Sleep.
I took a nap.
When I woke up, Superman (2025) was playing in the background.
Not my favorite Superman.
Still a pleasant way to wake up.
Then I went back to work.
I finished another chapter of Paul’s Penance.
Cancer didn’t get the whole day.
Writing still happened.
Jeff and I had a good conversation today.
We talked about money.
Or more accurately, the lack of it.
After everything that happened at lunch, he simply said,
“Take care of what you got to eat. I can take care of myself.”
I don’t know if he realizes how much I needed to hear that.
For years I’ve measured myself by how much I could carry for everyone else.
Today my brother quietly reminded me that it’s okay to carry myself for a while.
Mission Control gained another small supply today.
A bag of hard candy.
Jeff picked it up because my doctors recommended hard candy later to help stimulate saliva after treatment.
He even saw watermelon candy at another store but wasn’t sure if I could have it, so he left it there until we could check.
That wasn’t hesitation.
That was thoughtfulness.
Looking back over Sol 2, I realize the title isn’t about fear.
It’s about permission.
Permission to rest.
Permission to push away food that didn’t feel right.
Permission to let other people help.
Permission to keep writing.
Permission to hope for companionship someday.
Permission to keep investing in the life ahead.
Tomorrow is another supply run.
Another appointment.
Another page.
Another opportunity to choose alignment before outcome.
Mission Status
☑ Sol 2 complete.
Crew Status
Captain: Tired, but steady.
Mission Control: Learning.
Coffee: Still essential.
Jeff: Quietly watching the captain’s six.
Hope: Growing one ordinary day at a time.
Tomorrow’s Command
Engage. 🚀☕📖
If Sol 1 said, “I can do this,” then Sol 2 quietly answered, “I don’t have to do it perfectly.”
☑ Sol 2 complete.
