Stumbling Into Greatness

I don't know how I arrived here.  Passing whims of starting a blog quickly faded with a changing mood or forgetful lapse.  Silently coerced by family and friends, with their various inspirational dribbling on cyber napkins for everyone to read... or maybe not everyone.  I'm sure I picked up the pen wireless keyboard, with the intention of starting a new blog, at least a dozen times.  I created an online secret anonymous journal and a gut-wrenchingly candid website from earlier years, before blogging was blogging, really.  I'm not even one hundred percent sure what I plan to document or vent or share or communicate or who will possibly decide to peak into my corner of the bloggosphere and give two craps about what I have to say.  I just know, I'm still hurling along at a snail's pace and there needs to be some sort of expression, other than my over-dependance of Facebook gratification, to get out some of this brain fodder. 

I don't know how I arrived here.  Pulling myself out of one disgusting life consequence after another, I ended up finding myself creating myself in Ohio.  Well, rather I took the goop of clay I had become and began to mold myself into the vessel I happen to be now.  I still refuse the kiln, as I am never good enough to be considered art.  I'm never as good as my imagination and my imagination never compares with the beauty in reality, so I get stuck in a state of mishap and mystery. 

I don't know how I arrived here.  Pragmatic personal pollution of perplexing propaganda.  I dreamed of becoming a massage therapist and ended up on my way to becoming a doctor.  I planted roots and thought I'd be in Ohio for years and years, but I'm sleeping in Arizona every night.  I have the soul of a vagabond, but I own more possessions than I can sell.  I fancy myself a student, but I procrastinate studying as if it is going to physically wound me.  Somehow, I pull a great feat of motivation out from somewhere deep in my marrow and I create a resemblance of an educated mind.  I cannot quite figure out how to stop tripping over myself, literally and figuratively, but I end up a few inches ahead each time (without or without blood stains and bruises).  For all of the misery I find to swallow, I end up burping rainbows.  I guess there's a market for that parlor trick, but mostly it keeps me feeling like I'm stumbling into greatness.