A Home Page.
Often, there is retrospection of one’s life. Most prefer to do it on the clock, swipe time out of every year’s beginning to reflect upon failures as well as accomplishments, take stock of upcoming goals, reset aspirations.
It’s not as if I am immune to annual reflection. But I don’t happen to believe you can place it on a clock as if your life lies on a perfectly symmetrical mantel where ticking time balances left and right. Convention, this idealistic penchant for balance, doesn’t bode well for me, doesn’t seem right.
Some of my friends and family shake their heads at my decisions, my methods to get to where I desire. Could I go a route taken by others as that’s “the way it is supposed to be done?” Guess I could.
But I won’t. Willfully won’t. My life is lived on a daily basis eyes wide open, everything is see and hear sponges into my mind. There is room for everything but the norm as I believe there is no norm. Normal, or society’s idea of normal, is staid.
Experiences – those surprising, those mundane – tend to stick to me as if flies on flypaper. I pick them off, one at a time, inspect them, use them, write about them. Fact turns to fiction, fiction turns into stories, stories turn around to stick to a reader’s memory.
This is why I write. Not for fantasies of fame or delusional immortality, I write to have you think outside your norm, if only for a moment.
A moment in time, a flickering flash, is all any of us ever have.