I can't make up mind. It isn't as easy as people think, you know. To just make the decisions that direct the rest of your life. The decisions that come so easy for some and are never made by others. The decisions that raise certain men to the elite and are the downfall of others. The decisions I am putting off until I can barely breathe. I hate these decisions.
I've got all these abilities, but no skills.
I have this reservoir of knowledge and no outlet for passage.
I have this inner being pushing and pulling and dragging me in seven different directions all with measures of uncertainty and definite insecurity. And there is still no beacon. No postcard moment in time to help me along the way. Where is the simplicity?
I realize I have the confidence of a gnat when it comes to what I am capable of. Maybe it's the years of never quite being good enough at anything; never really attaining a goal that I set.
"And the ghost of who he might have been lives on inside his head..."
In Other News...
a) Novel #3 is floating in my head. But I'll need a bit of a less stressful mind to get it written (i.e. money to pay bills).
b) Derrek Lee. Poor Guy. What else does he have to do?
c) I ask any and every woman who considers themselves a feminist to explain to me exactly what kind of equality you want that you don't already have? The answers I've been getting are cluttered.
d) I should be a singer. I rock.
Connemara's Rising is solely a division of David Brunner's Intellectual gifts.
© 2004 David Brunner
