(untitled) exerpt 1

I am just beginning. My life that is. It is just starting. I have just figured out how to be me. Is this the by product of a middle aged crisis? Is there really such a thing as middle aged. I mean unless you know the day you are you going to die, how to do you determine what the midpoint of your life is? I am comfortable in my skin more days than not, I have confidence in what I do, occasional wisdom, and I am ready. To do what? Something. Something great, something not so great, who knows? And that was not a rhetorical question, I'm really asking, WHO KNOWS? Anyone out there have any clue? I need a clue. Do I just do what I'm doing? Work, raise kids, do laundry? I have been enjoying life more. The little things, the gatherings I used to so often avoid. I'm enjoying them, I think. Maybe I've just mastered the whole smile through it thing and I've learned to fool others so well, I'm fooling myself.

Where is it? The greatness? Where is it? I know it is somewhere around here. Somewhere I'm supposed to be. How do I get there? I mean, is the lesson at the end of this whole thing that the greatness is right here, right now, in front of my face. That the greatness is me or in the little things? There's no place like home Dorothy. I mean is that really it??? Some corn-ball conclusion embedded in every fairy tale a warning from those who seek greatness to those seeking? Oh, God, please don't tell me that this is true. I need to know that the sum total of what I am amounts more to being just me. But perhaps that is just greedy and unrealistic on my part. Who the hell am I? Why should greatness be mine? Why do I deserve such accolade? I'm just a worker bee like everyone else. Aren't' I? No. Because none of us are worker bees. We are all unique and amazing and have the greatness inches away from our grasp waiting to feel the pads of our fingers digging into it.

So what's taking so goddamn long?