(Readers alert: The author frequently begins posts with the inborn assumption that the reader has just finished reading the chronologically previous post. There is no cause for alarm. You have not failed some test or missed half of this post. There is however no need to alert the author to the outcome of assumptions, he is already an a** and the reader is whatever the reader chooses to be. No assumptions of the author can actually have any effect on the reader's intelligence or social standing. Unless one of the reader's friends finds the reader reading this blog, in which case they may point and laugh.)
Why do i not do the things i want to do?
When i was younger, i remember trying occasionally. With some moderate successes. i equate those with baby steps. Baby steps of a wandering scrivener. But then something happened...
i became my mother.
Now, given some recent family developments, this is a loaded statement which i will not delve too deep into here but suffice it to say that by "became my mother," i only mean in a metaphorical sense. You see, my mother is a wonderful, miserable person who has allowed her responsibilities to dictate her life. Her life was all about what she could not do. She is very intelligent and that keen intellect was finely tuned to the negative scale, she could always clearly see the reasons why something would not work. No matter what lovely idea she had or dream or hope, there was always a reason why she couldn't do it or at least could not do it now. As i became a teenager, i used to call her on this often. i chided her pretty hard. i know, i can hear the echoes of my voice mocking me through the ether of years right now.
i do not regret the decisions i have made, at least, not all of them. i feel led to this spot. i'm just starting to feel like Tom Hanks at the end of Cast Away, standing in the middle of the crossroads.
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