oneword: arrow

The physics of it all. The fact that you can pull back, shoot, and wind up somewhere totally different from where you intended.

I am guessing my aim has been more than a little bit off.

oneword: stall

i was making progress in leaps and bounds. then i hit a wall. i stopped moving. my life just stalled out into a world of nothingness. all of the things i loved, and cherished just kinda faded out of the picture. i've woken up in the same place, not moving, everyday for more than one year in a row. how does one un-stall their lives and kick it back into motion?

i jump out of planes and ride horses and am learning to ride a motorcycle to keep in touch with the fact that i am alive. i exist too much these days. i want to remember how to live again. really live.

oneword: trot

We started at a slow crawl, sometimes not moving at all. We'd drag ourselves a few feet and then collapse, in a pile of our own indecision. But then something happened. A spark. A realization. A something. And then we picked ourselves up, got on our feet, started speed walking, trotting, jogging... and now.... who knows how far and how fast we'll move.

oneword: trot

a faster gait than a walk, but not quite as graceful as the three beat canter. you must learn to sit a trot in order to learn to canter. the rough transition between the two is usually where beginning riders fall. its very scary to be in that transition. faith in yourself and your ability are your only friends. i am terrified, not of the canter, but of the added possibility that i will fall off in the transition.

life at times is scary like this, and you just hold on and pray that you can do it, and that you don't fall. amen.

oneword: pie

Yes, things are sometimes simple, or at least seemingly so. If everything could be broken down into a sweet, warm, flaky crust enveloping a steaming gooey glob of goodness--familiar, reeking of tradition, satisfying an ever-lasting craving--then all would be well with the world.

oneword: apron

There is this side of me that has white-picket-fence aspirations. I've been told that my soul is older than my physical shell...and the thought of the warm cookies, the kids, the dog, the Stepford lifestyle seems appealing sometimes.

But then I think of the chokehold of the apron. The expectations of keeping house, and the pressure to keep the family running smoothly. Look at what happened to my mother. The panic attacks. The arguing. The loss of self-awareness.

That good ol' homestyle American dream? Well, it's just that.