swim, chem, baseball, I talk with my hands
A breezy summer afternoon seated at an outdoor cafe and I am searching for the next jump. Most don’t have this luxury and yet that doesn’t make it easier. I’m at 20K feet in these moments looking out the window searching for patterns in the clouds and traces of landscape below.
The best version of me starts with a simple idea: stop being such a petty b*tch about everything. Proactive, not reactive, I tell myself. Keep the streak alive and value myself regardless of feedback.
So, OK, I did a “thing” last year and what’s perfect about that is the rationale: for myself, to prove against my own standards that I move forward, ever forward. Goal setting is terrifying as I might just achieve what I set out to do.
And so now I have a goal, one that found me just as it’s father and grandmother had found me, by trusting and stumbling forward.
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