The backstory. The prequel actually. Reveal the motivators. Shape the direction. Tighten the aperture. Clarify. Focus. Peer out through a brighter lens. Or, hey, at least replace the scratched, rose-colored lenses with Jackie-O shades. Reality bites. Big. Embrace the warts, toads and tulips. Throw off the shackles. Face the demons. All of them. All of them.
Do I do it here? In the remaining three plus weeks before my adventure through the looking glass begins in earnest? Hell. Why not. Get it over with. Bite the bullet. Summarize. Just hit the high notes. Intertwined with a few anecdotal references that will facilitate connecting those proverbial dots. Daunting. Shroud the actors posing in this bete-noir to make them less recognizable. More daunting. Impossible.
What if I uncover ... or worse admit ... that my travels to date have been a ruse? Bumblings. Blind luck. The fates conspiring without any action, reaction, precaution on my part. Not a single bit proactive. Devoid of strategy. Rudderless. Just amorphous, tangled pathways. No real direction. Pushed along blindly by happenstance, circumstances and the people populating the previous chapters.
Or ... and god I hope this is the case ... a thoughtfully constructed framework for my awakening. The confluence of the disparate routes of my journey. Well-conceived. Born from the scraps, shrapnel, treasures, delights found along the way. Shaping my destiny. Framing it to sparkle. To matter.
Propellants. What are they really? Boredom? Loneliness? Thrill-seeking? Solitude? Discovery? Search for that one great illusive romance? Wanderlust? Commitment phobia? Fear of dying before every drop of nectar has been sucked from the fruit? Fear of dying period? All of them. Yep. Each and every one.
Next time, promise. Uncover the salient factors contributing to my ennui ... or my zest for adventure ... or my need to move on. Promise. No more dilly-dallying. No more excuses. Fingers uncrossed behind my back. Next time, martini in hand, I'll reel in and quasi-structure the backstory, my backstory, as the prequel to the adventures ahead.
Cheers ... until tomorrow!
Do I do it here? In the remaining three plus weeks before my adventure through the looking glass begins in earnest? Hell. Why not. Get it over with. Bite the bullet. Summarize. Just hit the high notes. Intertwined with a few anecdotal references that will facilitate connecting those proverbial dots. Daunting. Shroud the actors posing in this bete-noir to make them less recognizable. More daunting. Impossible.
What if I uncover ... or worse admit ... that my travels to date have been a ruse? Bumblings. Blind luck. The fates conspiring without any action, reaction, precaution on my part. Not a single bit proactive. Devoid of strategy. Rudderless. Just amorphous, tangled pathways. No real direction. Pushed along blindly by happenstance, circumstances and the people populating the previous chapters.
Or ... and god I hope this is the case ... a thoughtfully constructed framework for my awakening. The confluence of the disparate routes of my journey. Well-conceived. Born from the scraps, shrapnel, treasures, delights found along the way. Shaping my destiny. Framing it to sparkle. To matter.
Propellants. What are they really? Boredom? Loneliness? Thrill-seeking? Solitude? Discovery? Search for that one great illusive romance? Wanderlust? Commitment phobia? Fear of dying before every drop of nectar has been sucked from the fruit? Fear of dying period? All of them. Yep. Each and every one.
Next time, promise. Uncover the salient factors contributing to my ennui ... or my zest for adventure ... or my need to move on. Promise. No more dilly-dallying. No more excuses. Fingers uncrossed behind my back. Next time, martini in hand, I'll reel in and quasi-structure the backstory, my backstory, as the prequel to the adventures ahead.
Cheers ... until tomorrow!
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