I’m not lost.  There’s no reason to get dramatic.  Why does every self-help life-hack require you to upend your life?  I’m not interested in selling all of my belongings and home schooling my 3 kids in Bhutan.  No, there is a space in between the trough and crest of the wave.  An area of windless waters that can lull a man to sleep.  These doldrums are the mediocre, the middling of life.  I have found these in suburbia.  Do you remember in the 70’s when heroes, at some point, had to contend with quicksand?  I was sure as a kid, that at some point in my life, I would deal with that.  How was I supposed to know it would be metaphorical?  If The Bionic Man could beat it, so can I.

As I said before, I am heading in the right direction.  I may be a click off here or there, but my aim is true.  I just need to get my ride off these tracks that were set before I got on.  I need to take the wheel, so to speak.  Find a different road.  You know, the one that is barely paved and has weeds and shit coming out of the cracks and broken areas.  One that requires bigger tires and tools in the back.  I don’t want to get to the end quickly and efficiently.  The end is death.  Fuck that!  I want to come to a squealing, abrupt stop with a ‘so that happened’  look on my face.  Then, hopefully, Teddy Roosevelt will peer out from behind the Pearly Gates and say, “bully good man, bully.”

It could happen.  Until then, my wife, three kids and I will recalibrate our route.  We will take this bland canvas and color it…like riots in the mundane.

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