I am not I am not I am not. And I never will be, no matter how many people tell me to just accept things as-is. To be okay with kinda sorta. To fold into a worn-out forgotten version of myself because that’s what married women with children sometimes do. To make or listen to excuses for poor behavior because of a crappy childhood. To living below the mark because it just takes too much effort.
I am not, and I repeat, not interested in mediocrity of desire, mediocrity of thought, and mediocrity of action, even when I could dive into its ever present ocean all about me.
Of course I do not live up to my expectations a good deal of the time, but I’m okay with that. Rather that than be a sunbathing slug on a sidewalk, desiring little more than to not get squished.
I could say more, but that, most of all, is what I want to say.
A toast to taking risks. To being uncomfortable. To appearing a fool, an eccentric, and just plain mad. Goodnight.