How time flies from a an old adage, recycled far too many, yet still mysteriously ungrasped by the human mind.
It is seventeen, Oh Seventeen, to be precise - the seventh day of the year, another new cycle of a three hundred sixty plus day, and as I sit piano-ing these soft keys from an Apple purchase of last year, I wonder-or wonder less, what this celebrated year has in store for me. Not that it does not bring me any excitement at all, it is just, life, it seems is becoming a tug of war between the desire to chase after our dreams and the dread of boredom, self defeating, yes - cycles (not proud of this).
People are exuberant and positive about everything when the New Year arrived. I thought a shift of mentality is necessary to open up opportunities pretty much the same way people would have loved to have in their lives - a new form of Big Bang, life changing.
But I recede to old habits. Habits of cynicism to say the least. Or for lack of a better term, habits of autonomous denial of any sort of potential.
Where has my bravado went? My tail has been waggling just mere seconds ago and now I find myself hiding under the skirt of life's impounding -You ain't shit - kinda thing.
Ah, indeed, my shifting moods and mental eccentricity may serve as negative agents to an otherwise beautiful year ahead.
One thing is for sure, "I am in a field with a cold breeze gently touching the back of my neck, and over these bright green fields overlooms a dark storm brewing with an intensity and malice. I am aware however that I am faced with the sunshine kissing my cheeks, hands extended, as I welcome whatever in front, eyes fixated up. Somehow I may be grinning".
It is seventeen, Oh Seventeen, to be precise - the seventh day of the year, another new cycle of a three hundred sixty plus day, and as I sit piano-ing these soft keys from an Apple purchase of last year, I wonder-or wonder less, what this celebrated year has in store for me. Not that it does not bring me any excitement at all, it is just, life, it seems is becoming a tug of war between the desire to chase after our dreams and the dread of boredom, self defeating, yes - cycles (not proud of this).
People are exuberant and positive about everything when the New Year arrived. I thought a shift of mentality is necessary to open up opportunities pretty much the same way people would have loved to have in their lives - a new form of Big Bang, life changing.
But I recede to old habits. Habits of cynicism to say the least. Or for lack of a better term, habits of autonomous denial of any sort of potential.
Where has my bravado went? My tail has been waggling just mere seconds ago and now I find myself hiding under the skirt of life's impounding -You ain't shit - kinda thing.
Ah, indeed, my shifting moods and mental eccentricity may serve as negative agents to an otherwise beautiful year ahead.
One thing is for sure, "I am in a field with a cold breeze gently touching the back of my neck, and over these bright green fields overlooms a dark storm brewing with an intensity and malice. I am aware however that I am faced with the sunshine kissing my cheeks, hands extended, as I welcome whatever in front, eyes fixated up. Somehow I may be grinning".
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