Blogger Waxes Car, Philosophical

Franklin, TN~ I'm not sure if its the impending season change, or the full moon, or a lack of potassium, but I've been in a very contemplative mood lately. Indeed, my world is whimsical, but sometimes my whimsicalnis is framed by a certain respect for the unexplored oceans of my life. I try to keep the lightheartedness and laughter within the framework of a solem regard for the sanctity of The Journey.

As you may have read, I just turned 25. Not by design, my ears have begun picking up any expression others make regarding life and its course. I have become more of a sponge lately, soaking up the stories of others. I spoke with my friend Dean last night, who at 27 said he had nothing and no direction. Now, at 34, he lives in a three story mansion and has a strong career in the medical field.

I’ve chatted with my friend Gabe Torres, a movie producer in LA. He told me his first job in Hollywood was as a night security guard. His second was being a screenwriter.

Most of my friends who have any sort of success said at one point in time or another, long about their mid-twenties, faced a cross-roads.

I take solace in that. I write this Whimsical blog, and I bounce around. I go everywhere and nowhere all at once. I envy others who know where life leads them. But, I have also discovered in the past weeks, that I derive a certain power from embracing the possibility of tomorrow. In as much as a finished story holds direction, an unwritten story holds possibility.

If I can say anything with certainty, it is this: Life, as we call it, really is a product of what we choose to make it. We can risk as little or as much as we want, and fittingly, receive as little or as much in return. Or, as I recently noticed, the more pancake batter you mix, the more pancakes you can make. Of course, to make more pancakes you have to step beyond the rigid contraints of the recipe.

Likewise with life, those willing to not just see beyond the possibilty of mediocrity, but pursue their own greatness wholeheartedly will, in the end, “get more pancakes.” (And for the record, there is pancake next to me at this very moment.)

I guess all this is to say that the long-standing platitudes of a robot-like existence are not enough to fill my sails just yet. I am a vigilant longshoreman with my eyes fixed upon the coming tide, and what, and who, it might possibly bring. And despite the occasional rain, and changing winds, I seek the horizon wholeheartedly. Ad astra.

That’s the story of my life…