So easily, we have fallen into that pattern just like two years ago. That one where it seems to rain in waves of severe downpours every 90 minutes. I find myself preoccupied enough to where in some ways it doesn’t really matter. I know that I’m in denial. At some point it all conflicts with what I want to do. 

Decompression of pressure upon me continues. This is creating extensive fragmentation in my thoughts in my direction in my planning. Someone asked me last night, is it because you have been so busy you do not know which end is up? Or is it because you don’t know what to do without all the pressure on you? My answer was, I think it’s actually both of those.

For those not engaged in hand to hand combat of that which awaits on the other sides of doors or around corners, down dark alleys, and up around the next bend, I think you really need to think about where you want the next few hours to go.

In telling my eighteen year old self’s stories I can see my training of moving through a day as though I were Jackie Chan moving through a crowded shopping mall. Always allowing the day take me where it would at Lone Oak. Friday night, never knowing who I would be on Sunday night. The Southern Tier Expressway, it driving me and me not driving it.

As I contemplate that, I wonder if my way is the better way. Are the lights of Binghamton more of a site to me, who feels like the last man on earth at 3 AM, or are they better for someone, planned, rehearsed and predictable? I have got to believe that reservations are just plain boring at times! Yes,  I make some now because of how ridiculous the world has become, and that works, but I miss the letting it happen factor! Maybe it’s me, maybe it’s you.