Wednesday, January 16, 2008

Southern kids have it worst. Maybe there are ethnic/cultural groups with deeper family ties, but us Southern kids have this expectation laid on us, that we'll stick around family. I guess that's why those of who break away, make such a big splash. Maybe it's an economic class idea, that Harvard grads go on to travel the world after they graduate college, and we PWTs are lucky to make it out of high school. 

I made it out of high school, but life and circumstance, combined with expectations which really could have been a lot higher, though they were high! kept me from Rice or Brown.. I had scholarship possibilities in both directions. 

Hindsight being the art of seeing what an ass I've been, I did the best I could, with what I had. I would have had further to fall, when family support fell off due to my parent's divorce. I know they would have done everything to keep me in school, but it just didn't work out. I don't blame them any more. They would have done differently, if they could have. If I had known I wanted to be a surgeon, or a psychologist, maybe it would have been different. Maybe not. Things are, as they are. 

Meanwhile, I've been overseas for almost six years. 
I'm migratory now, like the whooping cranes, hawks and butterflies. I don't mind going where the pickings and climate suit me. I do mind staying where I get sick, or uncomfortable. 

I don't need to *be* somewhere. 
There are places I love, and places I have yet to learn to love. 
Anywhere I can watch wild creatures, help something grow, and participate in the currents of life, makes me happy. 

Somehow I see a future in a vegetable diesel powered Jetstream with solar panels, wandering the continents with my table. I'd like to see writing, and nature illustration, in that future.. I think I've exposed myself, enough that the possibilities will chase me down regardless. 

Meanwhile, I'm sure I've made all kinds of accidental history, here in a cold, damp corner of Germany. 
I didn't mean to. 

True to pattern, without thinking, I rushed in, where angels fear to tread. 
Thankfully, I am no angel, but a force of nature, beyond my own understanding. Thus I end up again and again, at home in the fire, with no hope of regaining the frying pan. 

True to my nature, I won't jump back in. 
Burnt fingers, fried shoulders, I only stop, if it stops my work. 
Otherwise, my approach is flamethrower, buckshot, tracer, no-holds-barred. 

Taking no for an answer, is no answer. Status quo is just target practice. 

It's been too long, since I've drawn a bead. 

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