someone senses I am okay?

Last night, our city council voted to approve a high rise that has major flaws and obvious corruption. Unfortunately, all the corruption is skillfully hidden so citizens can't prove what goes on in crony insider dealmaking.

Last night, the council heard a bunch of appeals, with the fix obviously in. The project fixer, a former city planning manager who reeks evil and an investment speculator who does not build high rises, he just buys land, hires a well connected fixer to get the build permit and then sells. And for all anyone knows, the former city staff turned fixer creep will also make money from whoever buy the now-permitted project and develops it. The construction company and actual developer might also give the fixer creep fat stacks to help them navigate city government as they tear up our downtown and cause years of disruption.

But that was not the highlight.

My highlight was small and very fine. A young man that I barely know, a guy who signed a petition for me once and then became my FB friend stood up to make a public comment. He had written out what he wanted to say on his smartphone. As he got near the front of the speaker line, he realized his anxiety disorder was going to prevent him from reading his own words.

So he asked me to read for him.

For a guy with a significant anxiety disorder to turn to me, feeling safe with me, to ask that small favor still has me floating, just a bit.

Someone senses I am good, eh?