I really tried to write yesterday—per my new agreement—but the diarrhea, vomiting in a public trash can and the over-100 degree fever just wouldn’t allow me. So I’m not counting it against me, plus I’ll make up for it by writing twice today.
So today begins the gradual return to reality — the daily calls to Space Age, the slowed-down life soon back in Waimea, Obama back in Washington (some of us like me, with huge aspirations but scant accomplishments, harbor fantasies of meeting and mingling with someone so great and important).
The only way to work my way out of this mess I’m in is to temper my idealism with realism, my thoughts with goal-oriented action. That’s the only way out of this.
And once I/we are out of this — then what? Back here to Oahu? Is that really the answer? Another familiar place that’s comfortable and with more to do? There’s got to be more than that out there.
In other words, what is my call to greatness? Or am I just crazy? Sometimes I think I’m crazy, like other people I know.
When I look back at the things I’ve done to get me where I am, I don’t see much intelligence or prudent decisions—just doing what I had to do survive. And I’m sick of living like that.