It's wierd. Sometimes you find yourself on a strange path that you really do not know where you are heading and, what's worse, you have no idea how you got there!
Yesterday, I sat at my desk, wondering how the hell I got there. I am engaged in a job that I hate doing, yet affords me many things- the biggest of which is money. It just feels like blood money, life money-- as in my blood, my life. Why am I there? It's a job, a sucky one, but a job secured nonetheless.
The problem occurs when I feel down deep inside the possibilities- the "could be's" maybe even the "should be's". I have gifts but not gifts that play guitars or sing. I have the gift to speak. I can speak like few others, but no one cares if you can speak, unless someone else cares that you can speak.
I have the gift of writing. I love to write, but little time to write and no one to which to write. Is anyone out there reading right now?
I have always said that Potential is a wonderfully horrible thing. To have it is a blessing, a hope for the future but until it is no longer potential and it becomes realized, potential is also a curse. The things you should or could do. The things that you have the ability but not the drive, opportunity, or availability to accomplish. So there you talents sit, like family heirlooms collecting dust on some shelve or box, protected from the elements until that great and glorious time that they can be brought forth and admired by all.
I sit here on top of potential, mired in a sea of tasks. Which path will I take? Into which way will I courage to venture?
Which path is labeled my future?
Ask a man a question, he'll give you an answer; Give that man a Blog and he'll spew for the rest of his life.
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