Chatter of M lately has spawned a lot of thought. To what degree do goals, and timelines, become a hindrance? I talked with H over food about my dilemma wherein eventually I can no longer top my prior accomplishments. Yet, in the same conversation, I talked about how I have a direction more than I have a goal. My thoughts about Good have thus seized a hold of and manipulated my traditional lifestyle of taking everything as it comes. And while deep primal parts of me may pain over feeling not chosen, not the best, not wanted, when dust settles I am simply uninterested in those that aren’t producing. It’s nothing personal, but it comes close to my sarcastic remarks about people consuming my oxygen. While it takes all kinds, I don’t really need to be friends with them.

The past, is so far away. The future holds so much possibility of so much to do. Sometimes prioritizing it is the hardest part. When I look back over the last social five years of my life in Seattle, or look over my resume, or the chronicles of my romantic interests; the shift is amazing. While I fear eventually running out of fuel, of waking up to find some magic piece run dry, it seems to be all the reason to take more risks.

Restlessly, producing.