One, two, three, four, five
Hunt the hare and turn her
Down the rocky road
All the way to Washington
Wack-fol-lol-de-ra
I am painting a picture so large I can never see the whole thing at once. My nose is pressed into the minutia of the monumental undertaking and I cannot orchestrate between details. I get lost between tasks, among responsibilities, buried in this dream almost ten years in the making.
I have vague notions about how I want my life in Washington to look; a picture of generalities, cinematic-style scenes of me going about my business, half-baked ideas about where to take my life while I’m there, snippets of an imaginary identity not yet realized.
One, two, three, four, five
Hunt the hare and turn her
Down the rocky road
All the way to Washington
Wack-fol-lol-de-ra
It’s a leap of faith I cannot figure out how to take. I’ve painted a dream in Washington, but am hammering out a reality in Utah. I have two islands of identity I cannot figure out how to bridge. I’ve created scenario after scenario, option after option, Plan B after Plan A, but still cannot make the decisions on precisely when, or exactly how.
It’s a bittersweet issue to chew on. In some sick way I love the struggle, always have, but hate the, er- struggle of it all. Why does the picture have to be so damned big, so damned complex, so damned detailed and so damned personal? Why couldn’t I be content to grow roots in Utah? BWAHAHA! Yeah, right.
I am in limbo and in flux. Any number of things could change, need to change, for any number of other things in my life to sink into place. It’s a maddening game of dominos, Jenga and chess all rolled into one. It’s turned into an overwhelming gear-driven mechanism that cannot move without affecting all the other cogs.
One, two, three, four, five
Hunt the hare and turn her
Down the rocky road
All the way to Washington
Wack-fol-lol-de-ra
How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time.
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