These are un-extraordinary times. It seems to me that life goes on tick after tock, breath after beat, and there is no accounting for taste. I am sure someone somewhere is experiencing some exhilarating portion of life. Maybe my friends in China. Maybe people in Africa. Maybe it’s just the Adam Cox’s in life that get all the good stories.
I want to live. What does it mean to live, really live? When will I find the thing, the people that win over my heart indefinitely and cause me to live inside? Maybe I am the problem. I feel somehow that it is not likely. Seems that everyone I know is struggling. It used to be so exciting when I was younger. So much of the world seemed conquerable. Now, I am conquered. By some weathering force of time, I feel as though I have become a part of the worn away terra where I exist.
Confession: I want to be a superhero. I want super powers and I want to save the world with them, and I want all of the attention, for at least a little while. I’ve wanted it my whole life. Zorro, Mighty Mouse, Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, Aqua Man, Spiderman, He-Man, She-Ra, Wolverine, Rogue, Storm, the list is extensive. I love comic book movies and I always look for hidden meanings in them. Maybe God will talk to me through this one, and tell me that I am going to supernaturally have a healing web come from my wrist or a super utility belt of truth and justice will fall from the heavens and I will have the cure for redundancy all at once.
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