The days bleed one into the next,
or rather they fly by me, at warp speed.
It all depends on my point of view.
Everything is in flux.
I change, as everything else changes.
It's confusing to me.
Sometimes I see my situation with clarity.
At other times I am in a fog.
My mind flutters from one extreme to another.
I'm like a butterfly, going from flower to flower.
One moment I'm happy; the next moment I'm sad.
Is this the way older men are supposed to be?
Sometimes I feel secure and knowledgable.
Other times, I feel as if an ogre has me by the ankles.
He is dangling me over a frightening precipice.
I suppose, I have too much time on my hands.
I think, therefore I write.
A man is happiest, when he is working.
Most men complain about their working days.
They quickly forget about the pain of it all.
Yes, they forget when faced with endless, retirement hours.
What am I to do next? Do I count the hairs coming out of my ears?
Time went by, too damned fast.
My dad used to tell me that, "Life is just a wait at a bus stop."
I thought he was crazy.
Now, I think he was wise.
Sometimes, I long for the challenges of my youth.
At other times, I'd just rather take a nap.
It's good to have that choice.
For me today, reality is taking a nap after a hot meal.
The Bears play Green Bay tonight, on Monday Night Football.
I wouldn't want to miss the game, by falling asleep at half-time.
Choices define my realities.