*I am going to try my best to participate in NaBloPoMo for August. The theme is “tomorrow”. While I may not follow the theme consistently–because HELL….how much can you write about “tomorrow” when you don’t even know what to write?! So I just starting writing about what the word “tomorrow” conjures up in my addled mind. Tomorrow, it could be something completely different.

Always full of promise and hope. That one word. It offers anticipation that somehow, as if by magic, things will be different. Better. Improved in some, not insignificant, manner. As if all the planning and thought and preparation in the world could make the next day a pivot towards a new life, I wait; convincing myself that all this passive activity really is a form of proactive behavior. Yet at the core of it all, where it really lives and breathes, it is the place where I stand, looking out the window at what I want but never reaching for it. I stand, frozen with fear, smothered by overwhelming emotions, dazed by numbness. I long, trusting in tomorrow with unwarranted faith. Training my sights on now, rather than later, is much easier said than done. It is a theory that makes perfect sense in the presentation yet which falls flat on its face in practice. I realize that my clinging to something out of reach gives me an excuse for failure. It is failure that both I and others believe that I will find in all my tomorrows with this “non-plan”, lack of action, on my part. I fret, wondering if all retrospection should be abandoned and most future-spection should be cut back with an increased focus on the present. You know, now. That time that it is right this very second as you read these words (and I type them). This is really all we have. We have right now. Period. You would think that such a revelation would encourage me to get all G-force on the power of now and living in the present. I’m sure that such an approach would be an improvement over the way I currently live my life, yet I dread making a life for myself outside of the comfort of the past–of what I already know. This life of the reluctant loner is the one I’ve made for myself thus far. Stepping outside the boundaries may be exhilarating, but then what? What can we know past the planning and daydreaming? We cannot know until it is. Thus my catch 22.

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