Back in the ninth floor office for the second day of testing. I snuck over to a 24 Hour Fitness for the first hour - despite the downside of a homogenized America it is something of a relief to have a gym and a coffee shop that are ubiquitous. Reading over my post from yesterday I realize that I mis-spoke, or mis-wrote, if you will. I am not traveling this journey of life without a compass, it is a map that is missing. My family, my moral code and my faith are my compass. Though they occasionally fade to static and I occasionally forget to check them, the compass remains locked and loaded, somewhere between my brain and my soul.
The absentee map causes a lot of grief, though. Instead of nice straight lines from point A to point B to point C, I have a lopsided, wandering trail of little footprints that never seem to go far. Picture the kids' tracks in a Family Circus cartoon and that sums up the wanderings of my little life. I can tell myself the story and follow the trail in many various directions, but I can't make it make sense. Perhaps our lives aren't supposed to "make sense" in a conventional way? Some people's lives seem to make perfect sense, but that may be due to the fact that I am watching from the outside.
Everyone always says that it's about the journey and not about the destination. I agree; but even when ignoring the destination, I find it hard to understand my own journey. Being a linear thinker has its disadvantages. I could hold on to the possibility that my life makes sense in a alternate dimension, or I could stop worrying about it and take Daniel to Starbucks.
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