In Which Fiction Proves to be No Escape

People are asking me what I want, and the simple answer is - same as most folks - I don't know.
I've always been jealous of people who say they "just know." Well, jealous and suspicious.
Most of the rest of us have vague ideas and plans for our lives, and we pedal though, and find ourselves someplace, and we aren't all that surprised. You're not unhappy, you're pretty comfortable. But occasionally, you get a shock to the system, and you feel like you could jump either way.

Suppose you find yourself confronted with what you are, and what you could've been. Imagine that you could represent these two things with two different people. One's a really good version of what you are, in regular, everyday life and takes normal as a given, which at times, especially at 5am in the middle of winter, you'd kill to have. They might ask you to change, sure, but they'd be good changes, changes you could do, changes you probably should do.

The other - the other thinks you should set your ties on fire and run off to Timbuktu. Business suits and formal meetings are costumes, used to move among unwary creatures who live a life of quiet desperation. Rules - no matter however excellent they may be for people in general - can't possibly be expected to apply to you. There's no rest between high and low, it's a 24-7 rollercoaster, and you're standing up in the front car. Call what you do differently change? No, you call it freedom.

The door is open, either way. So, who do you listen to? I don't know.

I tried to distract myself by reading Peter Pan again. That was no good. Wendy wants Peter to leave Neverland, to be normal and grow up, which he wants to, then he doesn't. Tinkerbell is a huge jerk, but she loves him enough to die for him. There're no good choices, are there? Who's right? Wendy or Tink? Peter or the Lost Boys who leave him? Neverland or London?

Ok, now I know I'm losing it. Analyzing a kid's book, for pete's sake.....