Rewire

Mosquitoes make it difficult to meditate near the lake.  Certainly I could sit in the car with windows up, but then there's hardly a reason to do this at the lake.  Might as well sit at home.  And that's what I need to avoid at present.

The reality is, the more I realize my discontent, the less home feels like home.  Inevitably this leads to the question (tired, but appropriate) "what is home?"  It's rhetorical at best, since the literal answer tells nothing.  It's the symbolic meaning we're after.  Sometimes it's the meadows of Nebraska, the arms of a lover, the coffee shop of Main Street.  There are no more mom & pop shops, so it can't be there.  Sometimes home is on the road, a contradiction I find all too true for myself.

Whatever the case, this town is not home for me.  It represents a poor decision - the result of a get-up - and - go idea that floundered very quickly.  A year spent planning a move that would improve my fortunes (and it was not money that drove me so much as the hope to create more opportunities for myself and the kids).  Yet I arrived and found myself in the same situations, only making less money, less free time, fewer friends.  All in all, a complete failure when based on intention.

While I keep playing this sad song, I haven't penned a better tune.  My idea that relocating to the Valley will open more opportunities is not much different than the ill-tides that brought me here.  A blender doesn't become a microwave by moving it to a different counter.   Only disassembly, melt-down, remolding, and reconstruction will do the job.

As a person, obviously, this is not possible.  So I've got to rewire the device as it stands.