Coronasizing in Bizzaro World

Today marks 2 1/2 months since we were told to “shelter in place.”

I’m starting to wonder if this madness will ever end.

I decided to go out for another run jog walk stroll whatever.

This is my experience told in pictures.

Hello lamppost whatcha knowin?

I sometimes sing to inanimate objects. Sue me.

I guess the women are all at home cooking and cleaning.


Enough with the damn limitations!


Of course there isn’t.


How about the sun? Is that allowed to come out?


I’m starting to feel a little bit like Forrest Gump trying to find a seat on a school bus.


I’m guessing that sidewalks aren’t essential businesses?????


F8ck this shit! I’m making a left.


Jin!!!!!!! Are you down there?!?!?!?!?!?! Are you with Sun and Hurley?!?!?!?!?! 

Life on earth in 2020 is becoming way stranger than fiction.

Even the flowers are tired of being caged in. They are sprouting through their garden fencing.

I’ve decided that for now on I am going to be the flower and break through all cages.

I have also decided to finish my jog, Phoebe style.

Because, sometimes you just have to give into the lunacy.


Coronasizing – Frogger Style

Upon healing from a pulled muscle (thanks CBD), I went back to coronasizing.

Once again I took to the streets for a run. Well, actually it was more of a combination of a jog, walk, strut, sprinkled with a few Elaine style dance moves.

It was quite a challenging workout.

Not because of the lingering muscle strain, but because a newly released study had me frantically trying to avoid coming within 6 feet of other joggers.

I found myself constantly dodging joggers and looking for opportunities to cross busy roads. It can only best be described as a real-life game of Frogger.

This was one tough cross. I think I started at a level way too advanced for my Frogger skills.

So I pressed reset and went to level one.

Crap! No time to cross here at all. I snapped this picture while hiding in the bushes waiting for this guy to pass. I hope he didn’t see me taking his picture.

As always, my coronasizing became more interesting as my playlist and journey began to collide.

Here I am debating whether or not to cross right now.

And how tall! I’m like a freaken giant.

While I was admiring my shadow, this guy totally crept up behind me and then quickly surpassed me. In case the police are reading this, they should know he was totally within 6 feet of me.

Most notably, I don’t think I could have found a more perfect lyric.

There was more confusion at the end of the road. 

So I turned around and went home.



Coronasizing Through Limitations

Today I woke up, did 60 Rocky-style sit-ups and planked for 1 minute and 30 seconds. Yesterday I planked for 1 minute and 20 seconds, so I am officially one day closer to beating the world planking record of 8 hours 15 minutes and 15 seconds. I’m still trying to figure out how someone can go 8 hours without a pretzel.

I decided to escape confinement and go for a run jog speed-walk stroll.

As been the recent routine, I recorded my day in pictures.

The day began with constant reminders of restrictions.


And speed bumps.


And roadblocks.


And rules.

Since jogging with briefcases is clearly not allowed, I decided not to enter this neighborhood.


I was confronted with things I didn’t have.

Like wings.


And masks.


And the freedom to simply go.


I was even envious of those who were still able to go to work as if it were just an ordinary day in 2019.


Looking down is the easiest way to feel grounded.

And small.


So I looked up instead.

There is nothing like a flawless sky to awaken freedom.

And gratitude.


I ended the day at happy hour.

screenshot 2020-04-02 at 62817338552995859935..png

And got a head start of holiday festivities.



Coronasizing – Where Signs and Lyrics Collide

Yesterday’s “coronasizing” was so uplifting that I decided to do it again.

To keep it fresh, I chose a different path and opted for another playlist – where new signs and lyrics had a chance to collide.

What began as a somber journey, ended full of inspiration.

At first, I felt as though I was running to stand still,

on a road that was eerily quiet at times.

Some signs – like these next two – gave me pause.

In part, because they are stark reminders of all of the children currently being robbed of their childhood.

And partly because they force me to confront how quickly mine are growing.

But then I realized that even when the world stops, life still blossoms…

And souls still shine.

And children are still filled with optimism.

Sometimes you need to dance just to hold on.

And sometimes all you need is a little faith.


Coronasizing – Forrest Gump Style

This morning I woke up, I planked, I did 50 situps, and then checked my stress level.

I was shocked to find that I am far more stressed these days than I was when I was embroiled in a lengthy and life-consuming lawsuit.

So I decided to go for a run. But not just any run.

I decided to go for a liberating old skool Forrest Gump run.

I put on Jackson Browne.

And. I. just. started. running.


I wore my Sagaponack hat in honor of the Hampton locals whose groceries are being raided by entitled stockpilers.


I found a lot of interesting items along the way.

Like vision.


And concern about my welfare.


And even words of support!


I tried to run under the speed limit.

34 MPH! #ifyousayso

….as well as obey other rules of the road.

I felt grateful for having choices.


I followed the signs and just kept on running.

Till I finally found my way back home.


Even my shadow was proud.

It’s been a few weeks since my watch praised me.


Till tomorrow.


More Food Shopping During Coronageddon

I decided to brave Whole Foods again today – partly to do an updated inventory check, but mostly because I think it’s fascinating to observe the items that people hoard in times of crisis.

Fortunately, I came prepared.
Some people come prepared and styling.
While they may be good for the heart, who wants to be quarantined with bean eaters?
At least European Showers have not gone out of favor.
Looks like brownie ingredients are still on the shelves.
To plant or not to plant? I guess that the $100,000 question is what will come first: a vaccine or a carrot?

Food Shopping During Coronageddon

This morning I awoke to my husband informing me that people were reporting online that my frequented Whole Foods is being cleaned out.

Knowing that my eating habits are more unique than others, I wasn’t totally concerned that my “go to” items would be gone. Plus, I was just there yesterday.

Nonetheless, I decided to risk leaving my perfectly “socially distanced” cocoon to rush back over to assess the situation.

What I observed was purty, purty, purty interesting.

I decided to take pictures.

People are so desperate for paper towels and toilet paper that they would pay quadruple the price at Whole Foods.
People can’t live without pizza – well except 365 thin Crust Supreme. Apparently, people would rather starve to death in quarantine that eat that pizza.
People would rather eat than get drunk. I don’t know any of these people.
I never saw anyone fill up a Whole Foods cart before. She must think she’s in Cosco.

The Strangest Dream

My recent birthday had me haunted by a poem that I had written many years ago – before I met my husband, became a mom, and long before I had anything “figured out”.

The poem is a look back on one life’s journey through the eyes of a young pantomath. Yes, it’s a word.

Evidently, this poem is a depiction what my naive, twenty-something-year-old self presumed I would, one day, be contemplating as an old woman, after amassing a lifetime of wisdom.

I read this now with both hindsight and foresight, in awe of my intuitiveness and shaken by the following verse:

I think there’s some irony in my torment of not knowing
what I thought was my greatest struggle was that which kept me going

Perhaps I knew too much too soon.

“Ah, but I was so much older then. I’m younger than that now.” – Bob Dylan

The Strangest Dream

I just awoke from the strangest dream
I scaled a black tunnel
and swam through a stream
darkness faded
all colors blended to white
I was on the other side
immersed by the light
All I could do
was let out a cry
as a room full of strangers
captured my eye

Dazed and confused
just short of a while
until my first lesson learned
was that of a smile
The tiniest wonders
I couldn’t bear to miss
growing more amazed by the minute
I guess ignorance is bliss

Starved for answers
they sent me to school
doused with more questions
would’ve been easier to remain a fool
But the teacher said
I was built with a mind
if I used it correctly
the solutions I’d find

So began my quest
and allowed my mind to feast
in time it became
this untamable beast
devouring knowledge
a reward I earned
even mistakes
became lessons learned

Touching other souls
which in turn shaped my own
without them
emotions would have remained unknown
They nourished me with joy,
sometimes fed me pain
but the ability to feel
that was my gain
I’ve traveled the world
in search of reason
completing more of the puzzle
with each change of season

I gave my children
the gift of life
I took a risk at love
and become a wife
I reached out
to the herds
and touched so many
with my words

I sit here now
my body old
reviewing my life
watching it again unfold
I wish I had the chance
to do it again
what’s so meaningless now
was so important back then
like working
all those extra hours
I should’ve used the time
to smell more flowers
I wasted weekdays
feeling stressed
and squandered weekends
catching up on rest
Who cares how many figures
my bank statement is now showing
it’s not coming with me
where I’m going
and why’d I pass up
all those desserts?
I have no need now
for those size 4 shirts
I look back on my twenty’s
all the men I could’ve had
what’s in an unblemished reputation now
I should’ve been bad
But, why waste my last precious moments
wondering what I should’ve done
what good are “could have beens”
under the final setting sun?

The curtains have drawn
it’s the end of the show
my final wish is for an encore
a little more time before I go
to again view the world
through a child’s innocent eyes
before I knew the answers,
before age made me wise
I think there’s some irony
in my torment of not knowing
what I thought was my greatest struggle
was that which kept me going

I now hold the reason
upon which my life was centered
I now must leave this world
the same way I had entered
The time has arrived
I hear them calling
I face another dark tunnel
through which I must start crawling
Off in the distance
I head for the gleam
I can now close my eyes
and awaken from this dream…….9/21/97

Lessons from A Very Unconventional Dad

I was in San Francisco when I got the dreaded call.

As I was preparing to leave for the airport, I grabbed a bunch of tissues from the hotel bathroom and stuffed them into my bag. I knew that a 5 ½ hour flight home, alone with my thoughts, was not going to be easy.

Concerned that I wasn’t going to have enough tissues, I ran back to the bathroom to grab a few more.

And then once again for even more.

Calculating the precise number of tissues needed when a parent dies is not something that they teach you in school. Not even in AP Calculus.

Armed with 46 tissues, I headed to SFO.

I went through 5 tissues, in the UBER alone, on my way to the airport.

Every time I reached for a fresh Kleenex, I found myself counting tissues. It reminded me of how much my Dad loved numbers.

He was a math wiz who relished in memorizing digits and anything associated with them such as birthdays and anniversaries. He treasured dates and, until his stroke, never forgot a birthday. In earlier years, sometimes he would call me for no other reason than to inform me that it was some distant relative’s birthday that day.

Frequently, he would call again, just minutes later, with a joke. Many times, it was a joke that he had already told me before. Sometimes it would be such an unfunny joke that it would be insulting to even call it a joke.

But, I always laughed. Especially at the bad ones. To me, it was more amusing that my Dad actually thought his jokes were funny.

Seated on the plane, staring out at a heavenly sky, I couldn’t help but recount these seemingly silly – yet now achingly precious – moments with my Dad.

It was with this backdrop, and only 31 tissues left, that I began to pen my father’s eulogy.

My Dad was anything but conventional. He didn’t mow lawns on weekends. He joked far more than he reprimanded. He often answered serious questions with humor. He claimed to have been “allergic” to anything that he didn’t like. Instead of planning ahead, he focused on living – mostly by his own set of rules.

He was a free spirit who loved life, his daughters and, of course, numbers.

I decided there would be no better way to eulogize this unique, and somewhat quirky, man than numerically.

Although some have been guesstimated, here is my Dad’s eulogy by the numbers:

18,192 – the number of days that I shared this planet with my Dad. Coincidentally, 18,192 is also the approximate number of times that I heard my Dad tell me that he loved me. My father never ended a call with me without him uttering the words, “I love you.”


Considering I spoke to my father nearly every single day of my life (sometimes more than once), I think 18,192 is a pretty good estimate of “I love yous.”

LESSON NUMBER ONE: One can never say, “I love you” too much.

27 – the number of jokes that my Dad knew.

1 – the number of his jokes that would be considered “clean” or “child appropriate”.

270,000 – the number of times I heard my father tell a joke.

You don’t need to possess my Dad’s math skills to have an appreciation for how often my Dad told recycled jokes.

Everyone who ever came into contact with my Dad – from relatives to waiters to barbers to random passersby – knows why there are no Irish lawyers. But, for those who never met him, it’s because they can’t pass a bar.

LESSON NUMBER TWO: Even the most unfunny jokes can become funny when repeated enough times – even more so when they are only funny to the person telling them.

99 – number of pairs of Susan Benis Warren Edwards loafers that my Dad owned. 99 also happens to be the number of loafers that were ½ a size too small for his feet.

LESSON NUMBER THREE: Sometimes it’s better to look good than to be comfortable.

If you should ever notice me limping, it is due to lesson number three.

3,159 – number of button-down shirts my father owned. Coincidentally, 3,159 is also the number of button-down shirts that were missing every button above the navel region.

49 – the number of complaints I received from the staff at the senior living facility because my Dad’s chest hair was exposed in the dining room.

LESSON NUMBER FOUR: Not everyone appreciates exposed chest hair – particularly while dining. This is why I never ever expose mine in public.

The only thing more particular than my Dad’s fashion requisites were his eating habits.

0 – number of butter cubes allowed on the table as well as the acceptable amount of garlic permitted in recipes at restaurants.

No one hated butter and garlic more than my Dad. In fact, every single restaurant that my Dad frequented – and there were many because the man never stepped foot in a kitchen – knew about his “allergies” to butter and garlic.

LESSON NUMBER FIVE: People are highly allergic to things they dislike.

Lesson number five explains my sneezing attacks when unscrupulous lawyers are in close proximity.

1 – number of times I drove to Hershey Park with my Dad.

0 – the number of times I actually went to Hershey Park with my Dad.

Why? Because after sitting in 7 hours of Christmas Eve traffic, we arrived to find that Hershey Park was closed for Christmas. Who would’ve thought that an outdoor amusement park in Pennsylvania would be closed on a snowy Christmas day? Everyone but my Dad, that’s who.

My Dad wasn’t a man who planned. He was a guy who liked to show up where he wanted, when he wanted. And when things did not go quite as he had envisioned, he often just laughed. Maybe it was because he knew it would make for a funny story one day – you know, in case he ran out of jokes.

LESSON NUMBER SIX: Even the worst planned trips can make the most memorable and funny childhood experiences.

249 – the approximate number of movies I went to see with my Dad throughout my childhood and teenage years. 249 also happens to be the number of movies which were already well into Act II by the time we had arrived.

As I previously explained, my Dad lived by his own schedule – no one else’s. He didn’t care if amusement parks shut down for holidays or winter. And he certainly didn’t adhere to movie schedules. For us, movies started whenever we got to the theater. The fact that the movie was halfway over did not prevent us from buying a ticket. We would typically watch the end and then stay for the next showing to see the beginning. We rarely understood the plot until the second show.

Although, almost every movie I saw with my Dad was seen in this backwards manner, it taught me the most valuable lesson of all.

LESSON NUMBER SEVEN: Endings are not finalities. They are merely preludes to beginnings.

Perhaps life, just like our movie experiences, never ends. Maybe it just rolls right back into the beginning shortly after the credits roll.

I like to think that my Dad is now somewhere beginning anew – youthful, handsome and free once more.

Now, for someone who never felt the need to be on time, ironically, my Dad was always in a rush – well at least while driving. Nothing angered him more than being behind a slow driver.

This brings me to the number 25, also known as the number of times that my Dad drove over curbs and sidewalks just to pass a slow driver. And, when I mean, “slow”, I am referring to a driver going the speed limit.

LESSON NUMBER EIGHT: There is always a way around obstacles – even if it entails getting a few scratches.

There are so many lessons that didn’t make this list. But, I have officially run out of tissues. And frankly, I am wearing short sleeves.

With 0 tissues left, I’m going to end with the same number of which I began: 18,192, also known as the number of times I said, “I love you, too” to my Dad.

While I am comforted in my ample use of “I love yous”, there are 2 words I know I never said nearly enough: “thank you.”

Thank you, Daddy, for all of your life lessons.

Thank you for your generosity.

Thank you for your humor and sometimes, your lack of it.

Thank you for the pride I saw in your eyes every time you looked at me.

Thank you for your love.

And, most of all, thank you for not being like all of the other dads

Below is the front and back of a picture (taken at camp visiting day) that I recently found in an old wallet I used to carry a long, long time ago – back in the olden days when people kept physical pictures in non-digital wallets.

The inscription was penned 33 years ago, but the sentiment remains timeless.


I know. I know. I haven’t blogged in like forever.

I’ve been really preoccupied.

That said, I haven’t stopped generating ideas.

In fact, I’ve been accumulating them.

Lots and lots of them.

I’ve got a factory full of new ideas, presently sitting on the assembly line, awaiting to be articulated into words.

I just can’t seem to find the right moment or the inspiration.

It’s as if my inner word assembler has been on sabbatical.

She sometimes does that.

But, I recently saw this quote on a friend’s facebook page and just like that she returned – with a vengeance.

It got me thinking.

If creativity is intelligence having fun, then writing is creativity going rogue.


Playing it Forward

People are always talking about playing it forward.

Indeed, one good deed begets another.

But so, too, does the bad ones – a fact often overlooked.

Some things need not be passed along.

It’s just as easy to play the kindness forward while leaving the anger behind.


Love is Power

People think that love is merely an emotion.

They’re wrong.

Love is not just an emotion.

Love is power.

Watching my dad slowly die made realize this.

Each day I watch him being stripped, little by little, of life’s pleasures.

One by one they disappear.

Even the simple things we so often take for granted are now gone.

Like remembering.




Even watching TV has become a challenge.

It’s unbearable to witness.

I’ve never felt more powerless than when faced with the reality that there’s nothing I can ever do to replace what he’s lost.

The best I can do is make him smile.

It seems like such a small contribution.

A friend recently told me that studies have been done demonstrating the value in bringing children to Senior Citizen Homes. It has been proven that children lift spirits.

I’ve been reluctant to bring my kids to visit my dad. In the past 7 months, I’ve seen sights I’ll never unsee; heard cries I’ll never unhear; and smelt odors I’ll never unsmell.

I’d rather my kids hold on to the happier memories of him.

But the conversation with my friend inspired me to record video greetings from my kids to my father.

While it’s not anywhere near a replacement, it does bring happiness.

His face lights up watching them.

And in his his smile I get a glimpse of the father I once knew.

But moments of joy are sapped by thoughts of the day when his smile is taken.

What will I have to offer then?

On the way back home from a recent visit, feeling weak and powerless, it occurred to me that there is one thing I have total control over.

And, that is my love.

And that is one thing that no one – not even the universe – can never take from him.

Love is my power.

And my gift.


Huts and Stuff – The Valentines Day Post

Many years ago I was part of the IPO team for an emerging tech business.

After a long but successful raise, I was invited to the closing celebration which was held on the west coast.

I spent the entire 6 hour flight, devouring lobster and ice cream sundaes, and in deep conversation with the newly public – and well capitalized – company’s chairman.

I was just barely 30 years old with so much to learn – not only about business but about life.

At the time, I was still single and finding it increasingly more difficult to find someone I really clicked with.

Maybe it was because I was still not sure what I was even looking for.

I guess I figured I would know it when I found it.

Or when it found me.

In any event, the chairman gave me advice that I will never forget. He said that if you want to find true love, “look beneath all the stuff.”

He had all the stuff that money could buy, and had just been through a very nasty divorce.

He said that he knew his marriage was over when he began mentally removing every item they owned – one by one – and asking himself would he still be happy?

When he mentally removed their last possession, he realized that it was the stuff, not the person making him happy.

He said he just wanted someone whom he can live in a hut with – without stuff.

Every date I went on since that conversation (and my G*d were there many), I would try to envision myself living in a hut with that person – penniless and gray.

Most guys I couldn’t even fathom surviving living in a palace with.

And then I found Greg – the guy who could one day make stuffless hut dwelling fun.

And just think, without a dishwasher and washer / dryer, there’d be nothing to even fight about.

Happy Valentines Day to the guy who keeps me laughing.


Stay Hungry

Some starve.

Others englut.

I always try to stay a little hungry – literally as well as metaphorically.

I believe that if you leave the table before becoming stuffed, you maintain a better physique.

And if you work as if you’re on your last dime, you’ll be more productive.

Satiation is really only one bite away from inertia.

And fulfillment is often just one small step away from boredom.

Just because you can engorge yourself, it doesn’t mean that you should.

Staying somewhat hungry – no matter how much you’re able to amass – is truly the best way to remain appreciative and motivated at the same time.


Lessons From Dr. Evil

There is nothing worse than immoral people pretending to be righteous.

Just be who you are.

If you are evil, own it.

Flaunt it, even.

Just stop hiding it.

It is for this reason that it is easier to respect Dr. Evil than most politicians.

Dr. Evil doesn’t pretend to be a good guy.

He doesn’t hold himself out there as a saviour of mankind while he’s lining his pockets.

No. He’s an honest crook. When he says that he is going to hold the world hostage for one million dollars, you know what he does?

He holds the world hostage for one million dollars.

He parades his evil on his sleeve.

Hell, it’s his damn name.

I think that the world be a better place if everyone bore their true colors in their name.

Imagine all of the time and aggravation that would be saved by not investing with Mr. Fraudster; hiring Ms. Kleptomaniac; obtaining legal advice from Counsel Unscrupulous; or seeking medical treatment from Dr. Malpractice.

Just imagine.


Mrs. Albright



Toss the Notes

You know that kid who kept the training wheels on her bicycle for a bit too long?

That was me.

Although I could ride without them and even though they slowed me down, I liked knowing they were there.

Decades later, not much had changed.

I still have a hard time letting go of safety nets.

I gave four presentations in the last two weeks.

Like always, I showed up with my notes in tow.

Although I can present without them, and even though they can be somewhat distracting, I like knowing that my notes are there.

Unfortunately, knowing that they’re there only forces me to rely on them even more.

All was upended two weeks ago when a projector connection setting prevented me from using power point in presentation mode – where all my notes were held.

I had no choice but to ride without the training wheels.

So I did.

Because I wasn’t able to lean on my crutches notes, I had to rely on my knowledge.

So, instead of pretending not to be reading presenting, I simply spoke.

It was so much more personable.

And engaging.

And, personally, quite liberating.

The experience made me realize how foolish I’d been depending on something I never really needed in the first place.

So I tossed my notes – for good.

In fact, I discarded all crutches, training wheels and security blankets.

Better to fail with responsibility than sail with dependency.


Blog Withdrawal

It’s official.

I have blogging withdrawal.

All it took was a few weeks of not blogging to realize just how much I miss it.

Yes, I miss this stupid, obnoxious, laborious blog.

I truly do.

Experiencing the world through the lens of a blogger is not something you can simply undo.

I am forever seeing blog material wherever I go.

And I can’t shut it off.

Creativity is not a light switch.

Now that I can’t stop seeing it, it pains me not to be recording it.

It’s like squandering a gift.

It’s like having superman strength with no one to save.

Or ex-ray vision with nothing worth looking at.

Or pockets of cash and nothing to buy.

Or oceans of time and no one to spend it with.

I think you get the picture.

I miss the writing.

Even the bad writing.

Much more than I ever would have thought.

So I figured I would pop in from time to time with a rant.

Like this one.

Cause, like a fish needs water, a writer’s gotta write.


Next is Now

I woke up today a bit hungover and completely free of any pressure to blog.

So what did I decide to do?

To blog, of course!

I just needed to know what it felt like to go beyond the finish line.

And, guess what?

It feels fu*king fantastic!

“Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go.” – T. S. Eliot

366 blog posts down – 365 in 2018 and 1 beyond the finish line in 2019.

Okay. Now I’m done.

What’s Next?

Daily blogging changes the way you see the world.

The way you hear music.

The way you think.

It has a way of making everything around you instantly become a potential blog post.

A shared moment with a son or daughter.

A book on display at a local juicery.

A verse of a song.

A story.

A letter.

A memory.

An epiphany.

An observation.

A challenge.


Indeed, this blog has changed me in ways I never could have possibly imagined.

It enabled me to notice hints of stoicism all around me. And, more significantly – deep within me.

While I am so grateful for this journey, I can’t conclude my final post without pondering where I go from here.

Do I continue this daily blog?

Do I begin a new one?

Or do I just call it a day year?

As much as part of me wants to continue the Daily Rantings of a Stoic, I know in my heart that I’m ready for something new.

Whatever it was that I thought I was missing a year ago, I most definitely had found it.

And, nothing is as detrimental as not being able to recognize when it’s time to move on.

My eyes are wide open. As is my imagination.

I’ve been exploring new daily blog ideas with my daughter – concepts that are wildly different such as a blog that focuses on music or one that would test out my comedic chops.

We’ll see.

The fact is I have a lot of other projects that demand my attention right now.

And I never felt more confident in my ability to complete them.

There’s a book I’ve been meaning to finish.

A truly game-changing industry report to publish.

A screenplay to write.

And some more law to learn.

What began as a whim on a lazy new year’s day, ended up taking on a life of its own and opening a whole new world.

As much as I complained about this blog, at times dreaded it, and anxiously awaited its completion, part of me is sad that it has now come to an end.

I don’t think I could stop blogging even if I wanted to. However, I no longer feel compelled to do it every single livelong day.

So, what’s next?

I have no idea.

But, I do know that, this endeavor – like all others – will eventually lead me to a place that finds me leveraging all that I’ve gained from this experience.

Because that’s what all experiences do.

So until I figure out what comes next, I’m just gonna I keep my feet on the ground and keep reaching for the stars. And, of course, relish in the fact that, yes, I fu*king did it!

So many roads left to travel
so much more I’ve yet to see
We’ll meet again on a distant path
My next journey is awaiting me… DSA 6/6/97

365 down – ZERO to go!

Done. And. Done.

Beyond the Finish Line in 2019

For me, 2018 has, for the most part, been about proving.

Proving facts.

Proving theories.

Proving my worth.

Proving what can be done.

But, proving is not an outcome.

It is a process.

One that can go on, endlessly, if you let it.

The time has come to stop proving and start capitalizing on that which has already been proven.

If this blog has proved anything, it’s that I can reach a finish line.

Now, I need to find what lies beyond it.

It’s funny, when I began this blog on January 1, 2018, I was convinced that merely arriving was all that mattered.

But, as I inch closer to my final post, it is becoming clear that there is more to it than that.

Much more.

I now recognize that destinations aren’t landing-places.

They are a launching pads.

Sure, 2018 will forever be remembered as the year I found the finish line.

But, 2019 will become the year I surpass it.

364 blog posts down – just one more to go…