Thursday, June 24, 2010

When the trumpets cry in unison . . .

You kinda gotta march.

I won't go into detail. My aid is in demand, it's up to me to build upon my resources. My heart is wayward and my mind is chasing it in circles. I can't get a grip on time or priority most of the day. I don't feel cohesive and I'm pretty sure I won't appreciate help. This is about me getting a hold of me. I ought to be able to. Or else why live? If I can't focus and take meaningful action, why live?

I keep trying in vain to relate this blog to being American, but I do wonder if non-Americans are capable of the type of faith-crisis born from too much opportunity and too much freedom. I can think what I want to in this country, I can push my brand and make money on products I put my heart into . . .

Everyday I'm confronted with a haze of ideas, all feeding on one another and never leading me to a definable staging ground. I can sit in front of this laptop for hours with fingers poised, struck by the nuisance of doubt.

I can do better but not for others. I can't learn the way with others yelling. I may not be ready for half the responsibilities I'm poised to accept, but I'm tired of having little and doing little.

For all this venting I might as well have a therapist, but there's no money for that, just people in need and me with a bunch of hovering talent.

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