At Fall’s End

I take chances mostly to make sure that I experience life while I can. Carpe diem is a cliche, but routine is a well accepted one I try to cast off from time to time. I try to trust that things which are worth while will come from a night spent with something new or a day driving to a different destination.

I’m not saying I don’t like where I am. I’m not saying I don’t want to move forward either. Right now I’m all for little tweaks and changes after thinking and examination, but I’m not ready for a world turned on its side.

I guess I’m ready for nothing, in both senses. No one is ready for anything really and neither am I. I am also more than ready for nothing earth shattering to happen for awhile. It’s been nice not riding swells and feeling sick, going up and down, constantly having feet slipping out from under you, being lost at sea.

I may be a pirate at heart, but for now I want to sit on my island and drink some rum. Yar.

Maybe I want to be ready for more, but wanting doesn’t make it so. Before I dive in head first, let me stare and try to see through the muddy waters for signs of danger a bit longer before taking a plunge.

I exist, try not to make mountains, but even the mole hills are dangerous. I’ll try not to trip and I’ll see you next fall…