My life, it's complicated. I usually go Spock when I get overwhelmed, logically thinking through why my face has met the quagmire and the steps I have to take internally to remove my head from my own ass, but sometimes you just can't fight the Kirk. Monday, I was Kirk, just without all the alien tail to hit.
Alien tail makes everything better.
But I didn't move to New Mexico, I moved to the 4th largest city in the US where UFO's never appear because they always wait for some toothless, unsuspecting Kansas farmer or West Virginian to mozie out to his outhouse in the middle of the night and that's when they strike, because no one will believe them. It's high school alien T.P.-ing at it's finest. And then all those toothless farmers and Deliverance-livers will collaborate to document the sighting no one will believe, and they'll submit it to the government and the government will call it Project Blue Book and people like me will finally have one way to track down their relatives, because they are all quoted in that book.
Crazy is as crazy is related to.
Back to Monday. I went Kirk for a long time on Monday, until 50ish people failed in every way to follow directions reminded me of why I chose to do this in the first place. So, thank you all for your virtual fistbumps.
I'm one of those saptastic people that makes grateful lists when life seems jolly rotten, because I know there's something I've forgotten, but it wasn't coming Monday. It came Monday night, my Pointy Eared List Of Clarity, and the top 50 items on my list were those 50 comments on that last post. A couple emails and a really good phone call thrown in to boot, and I'm feeling much better. Like, I don't want to quit. Like, I want to prioritize a little better and make better use of my time on and offline. Like, I don't think I could quit because you guys have this amazing ability to make things better in my life that you don't even know you're touching.
My life, she is grand. Perhaps I'm not going to know the classic definition of "success", but perhaps I don't want to. Perhaps I don't want to be classic. Perhaps classic isn't in my cards, but if I measure success by the amount of lives I've touched and been touched by, I have a cup that is running the fuck over.
And it's all your fault.