A month in the life...

So it's been over a month since I posted here - weird, it doesn't feel like a month.

Then again, it doesn't feel like we've been on vacation for the past 8 weeks, but we have.

I guess it really is true that time flies when you're having fun.



Having spent the better part of my adult life working in a corporate prison of beige walls, nondescript furniture and sometimes forced commeraderie, finally being free to go where I want, do what I want and spend time with those that I truely love being with, seems like a little bit of paradise in the midst of a stormy sea.

Like an oasis in the desert of life.

But, I hope to think that I won't return to the wasteland of marking time until something better comes along.

I've wasted too many years thinking that my real life will start tomorrow. Today is all that I have, all that I am guaranteed. Maybe tomorrow will be great, but I am going to work as hard as I can to make today even better than the potential of a thousand tomorrows.

Memories of good times spent with friend doing something that I really enjoy over the last eight weeks has eclipsed much of the last 15 years where I spent five days a week trudging through crap to get to the sunshine of an all-too-short weekend only to spend much of that time dreading the arrival of Monday. Lather, rinse, repeat.

I may not become rich, I may never have a million dollar home - but I will have my happiness and that makes all the difference.

I find that a Robert Frost poem really and truly reflects my current mood so I shall share it with you:

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The Road Not Taken
By Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood.
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how whay leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I -
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

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So it is with this poem that I hope to never wonder about the road not taken, regret the experiences I missed because of the road I chose.