I'm not really all that mysterious


I’m grinding my teeth, thinking about what happens next, and what the next 18 months will mean.

At the breakneck pace life seems to be going these days, I fear it will fly by so fast my head will spin.

It’s interesting how certain things will bubble up and become compelling. It starts as a single drop of water, a single grain of dust. That’s all that it takes, and then it starts building up to a great humongous cloud bank ready to pour gallons of rain down upon you for 40 days and 40 nights.

I’m not at that point yet, the point where things get black as night, and ominous.

I’m just a black little cloud floating in the otherwise serene blue sky. (Winnie the Pooh comes to mind. That, and admitting a raftload of patients to the hospital.)

One is chance, two is coincidence, three is uncanny. Or that’s how the mind is programmed to think. When you look at it from an objective viewpoint, it’s just another coincidence. At three, you start thinking uncalled-for thoughts. Ideas of streaks, of patterns, of inevitabilities dance in front of your eyes, and yet your just a little ways down on the gentle incline into impossibility. With an event that had a 99% chance of happening anyway, you’re looking at 97% for three things in a row happening. It’s not that unlikely. You would be a fool to bet against it. (Unless you’re incredibly unlucky and tend to lose easy bets.)

Back to my point, or maybe this meandering madness is the point. I have no center. There is no point on the map where I can home into and call that zero, zero. I have no coordinates. I’m just adrift in a sea of homogeneity and unending sameness.

Which way to go?

Why am I even thinking about these things? Except for the fact that people keep asking me questions these days.

Holy hell.

Can’t I just cower in this little corner I’ve imprisoned myself in, and just pace back and forth for the rest of my remaining days?

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