Although I seek variety and spice, I would like to have a hand in selecting which challenges I face. If I could plan for major life events as if I were riding the sky ride at the amusement park—floating along above the raucous crowds, evaluating the challenges ahead—then I could aim better and know how to arm myself for the barrage to come.
If I could float along above it all, I would be insulated from the noise in the distance and reassured by the gentle sway of the seat. Viewing life from a distance makes all tribulations—even the highest roller coaster—seem manageable.
If I could float along above it all, I would be insulated from the noise in the distance and reassured by the gentle sway of the seat. Viewing life from a distance makes all tribulations—even the highest roller coaster—seem manageable.
I could make objective decisions from this distance. I would look to whatever was ahead and I could pick the next ride--the most vibrant and approachable destiny—one that appears to fall within my limited expertise and from this distance I could gauge which challenges to attempt only on an empty stomach or perhaps to avoid entirely.
Journal,
I saved all year for this trip. (This means I scavenged the change from the annual accumulation on the nightstand, the top drawer, and from the dryer.) I took it in bulk to the amusement park and dispensed it from pocket and purse, for popcorn and cotton candy and at the duck food dispenser, my goal—to rid myself of the encumbrance.
Journal,
I saved all year for this trip. (This means I scavenged the change from the annual accumulation on the nightstand, the top drawer, and from the dryer.) I took it in bulk to the amusement park and dispensed it from pocket and purse, for popcorn and cotton candy and at the duck food dispenser, my goal—to rid myself of the encumbrance.
The day goes on and the bag on my arm slowly empties as everyone else fills up with candy apples, hot dogs, snow cones and lollipops.
Change can serve a good purpose, or I could maintain status quo and use my rudimentary coin collection as a paperweight to flatten the chaos running amok in my sock drawer! T.
I realize that this wish cannot be granted—that nothing this pleasant ever lasts very long and the delusion flees as my mind returns and the chair drops me back down to mill with the masses in the vast human crush of reality.
Journal,
I fling change at the parking attendant, and to the fairway vendors, but I drop nothing smaller than quarters for the street sweepers, or it won’t even be worth their efforts to bend over.
This plan might work better in a change-starved third world. T.
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