One a field of gradient blue sky, a small black child, hair done up in neat rows by a caring mother somewhere – sunglasses perched on a tiny pert nose and the LOOK on her face. Live Fearless, the text in the corner advised. Point taken.
Having purchased an iPad on the pretense of needing a PDF and image reader, and shortly thereafter purchasing a sturdy keyboard case with no pretense at all I have run out of excuses. This thing is built for blogging. So that’s just what I’ll do, etc etc. The best of me suggested a few topics for me to try and get me out of the funk I find myself in. It feels like nothing is good enough to talk about and so no topic gets picked and a week goes by, two weeks. My blog is my online home for my thoughts and such I cant just go throwing up just any ole thing. Only the best for you folks and your readership.
The good fight.
Every morning I get out of bed, go through my normal little song and dance, lock my door and take staggering steps in the general direction of my parking garage. I’m not really awake until I reach the forth floor walkway from one building to the next. It is terrifying. The ground drops away from what amounts to a concrete drawbridge with a little railing designed to laugh at you as you plummet past it to your doom clutching your new Target purchases. Theres also a biting wind and circling semi-feral dogs under the bridge having eaten their owners and grown accustomed to human flesh. Ya’ know. Just in case. Every morning without fail, two steps into the bridge- THATS when I wake up. The brisk, the view, the all of the wildly fierce dawn comes rushing at me and it feels pretty damned good. I get invigorated. Energized. I become certain that ill have the juice to get at least to my car. I might even get through the day. If I can make it across the pit below I can do ANYTHING*. So I cinch up my leather messenger bag constant companion and stride on. Purpose is in me. Works me like a sock puppet all the way to work.
Then reality takes a running start and kicks me right in the teeth. “Here comes 7:30 bitch!”
I fight the good fight. Keep putting one foot in front of the other, spirit beaten almost to broken by the day and the work and the feels and the deep- but not quite broken yet. Back in my apartment- eventually I sink back for a minute in a chair in my bedroom in the dark and try to regroup. Ive walked the day and into the night and made it home to tell the tale. Soon I will close my eyes to blink and time will pass. Pass pass pass. I’ll dream pretty little dreams for a too short a time and then the bleating demon sheep inside my alarm clock will shoot sound at me. And I’ll be standing over the bridge and the pit again before I know it.
Live Fearless.
* “anything” is a big word. We’ll talk about how wrong I am later.